


Million Dollar Man

by Oscurita



Series: The Beast Of Burden [1]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Bickering, Canon Compliant, Character Analysis, Cheating, Conflict, Confrontation, Drama, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Struggles, Ending C, Eventual Affectionate!Michael, Eventual Fluffy Stuff, Eventual Happy!Michael, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Extramartial Affair, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Introspection, Love, May/December Relationship, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mistress, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Sexually Explicit Scenes, Snark, Some Humor, Strong Language, The Other Woman, Understanding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:37:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 250,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3962962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oscurita/pseuds/Oscurita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four months after Doctor Friedlander's untimely demise, Michael's happy ending has already turned sour. He comes to realize that in order to survive life at home he needs to vent, and decides it's high time to give therapy one more try.</p><p>He meets his former shrink's replacement, in the shape of an attractive, newly qualified psychologist. Who quickly becomes far more to him than just a shoulder to cry on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pull

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, so this is my first GTA fic. I hope this concept hasn't been done before (and if it has, I hope this is different enough to be interesting) but I had the idea come to me and it wouldn't let up until I started writing. Since this is my first fic playing with Michael, I'd love to hear what you think, and if you'd like to see more. Enjoy! 
> 
> *I don't own any of the characters your recognize, they're all Rockstars doing, but the plot and original characters are mine.*

_I don't know how you convince them and get them,_  
_I don't know what you do, it's unbelievable._  
_And I don't know how you get over, get over,_  
_Someone as dangerous, tainted and flawed as you._

_You got the world but baby at what price?_  
_Something so strange, hard to define._

_It isn't that hard boy to like you or love you,_  
_I'd follow you down down down,_  
_You're unbelievable._  
_If you're going crazy just grab me and take me,_  
_I'd follow you down down down, anywhere anywhere._

_One for the money, two for the show,_  
_I love you honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go._  
_How did you get that way? I don't know._  
_You're screwed up and brilliant,_  
_Look like a million dollar man,_  
_So why is my heart broke?_  
**\-- Million Dollar Man by Lana Del Rey.**

Life had been bordering on idyllic since his crew had taken the Union Depository for all they could, and finally dispatched of the threats at their doors, and _most_ of the skeletons in their closets. With a hefty sum in the bank, his family back under one roof, and legitimate work to busy himself with, Michael thought things couldn't get much better. 

Or at least that's what he was telling himself. 

When the email popped up on his phone, he glanced at it for all of two seconds before clicking it away again, but for some reason he didn't delete it. It was an unconscious decision, and one he was later glad he'd made. He'd kept a lifeline back for himself, something that might help him survive this revamped retirement. 

For as much as he'd hated that smug prick Friedlander for all the judging and looking down his nose he did. Not to mention that damn book he'd written - he missed having someone to vent to. Without that release, he was steadily bottling things up again and he knew all too well that it would slowly turn him explosively toxic. 

He wasn't short of people in his life, but they weren't the kind of people you whined to. He saw plenty of Franklin and Trevor, although the latter was often a trauma in itself. He could never bring himself to open up properly about his trouble with Trevor, not after what he'd done to him. After everything that had been said since they reconnected. Underneath it all, it felt wrong to sound so ungrateful and disenchanted after seeing how he'd left Trevor to live for so many years. 

He checked in on Lester too, every few weeks, but he did all he could to avoid baring his soul to any of his comrades. It didn't feel right to go on about about how hard life was getting to those guys. They didn't get it and that was okay, he didn't expect them to. They didn't have domestic issues as he did. They had more money than they'd ever know what to do with now, their problems and stresses had vanished the instant Lester had put all those zeros in their bank accounts, but Michael had money. It wasn't new to him. He'd been there, tried that, and found it wasn't the cure-all he'd hoped for.

_More money, more problems_ \- seemed to be the rule of thumb now and even with trying to go legitimate as a studio exec and a business owner, he found that working for a living wasn't all it had been cracked up to be. 

He'd made some acquaintances at the studio, the golf and country clubs of course, but they were much like the people who worked for him - just faces he made small talk with. People he felt pressure to maintain a certain image around. 

While he'd been in therapy, he hadn't realized just how much it helped to just rant and rave to someone. Now the option was gone, he truly missed it. Of course, he found the bitterness about paying someone to be interested in his problems and he hated sitting there, feeling as if he was being silently judging every word from his mouth. However, now that service had been removed from his life, he found it harder and hard to deny that therapy had actually helped. 

He thought it was silly to need an ear like he did, and God knows he bitched enough about being in therapy while he was going through it, but he'd become used to visiting Dr. Friedlander. Used to the random phone calls, someone checking up on him. Even though half the time the asshole was just calling to fleece more money out of him, it had been nicer that he'd realized just to have someone on the sidelines that he could unload to. Someone who seemed to actually give a shit about what was happening in his head. 

So, he kept the email from Friedlander's replacement, and he couldn't stop himself clicking on his inbox, almost every night. Reading, and re-reading the email over and over, contemplating the benefits of another session, all while still simultaneously telling himself he didn't need it. Hovering his thumb above the reply button, as he warred with himself over giving in and arranging an appointment. 

After a particularly stressful day, fraught with drama at the studio, heavy downtown traffic, continually ungrateful offspring and an intensive struggle to maintain his newly found non-combative demeanour with his wife - _he snapped._

He couldn't resist the pull anymore. Despite knowing the email by heart already, but he gave it one last read to be certain it was what he needed. 

_Dear Mr De Santa,_

_Due to Dr Friedlander's unfortunate and untimely death, I have been asked to take over his client list and offer further counselling to anyone who wishes to continue with the therapy they were receiving._

_I will be offering sessions at the start of next month. If you are interested in making an appointment please reply, or call, and I will do my best to accommodate you._

_I understand that you perhaps feel starting over with a new therapist may not be beneficial to you, but I am in possession of all Dr. Friedlander's notes and will be able to hit the ground running if you choose to continue your therapy with me._

_Kind regards,  
Dr. Nardovino _

What did he have to lose? Apart from a thousand bucks and an hour of his time? He had more than enough money to cover therapy, he wasn't exactly short of time either, and he really needed that ear. Someone to air his inner thoughts to, someone who could help him organize all the confusion within him. Someone to put the dark side that kept on threatening to break out into perspective, or back in its restraints. 

He hit reply and typed out a short message without thinking too much about it, asking for the first available appointment. He worried he'd waited too long to take up the offer, the email was weeks old now, but a reply came back to him almost instantly. 

It offered a slot that Thursday at eleven am. There was no demand for confirmation, it was an open invitation to show up at an address on Ineseno Road, along the coast near Chumash. 

He stopped himself from replying to confirm his attendance, he didn't want to seem too keen, and he certainly didn't want to tie himself into committing to showing up, but the truth of the matter was - he couldn't wait. 

The hope that having someone to talk to about what was going on inside his head, seemed to help him continue to maintain the positive and agreeable facade at home. He hoped more therapy sessions would keep the mask in place and prevent his mind from being contaminated with all the dark side of himself, his aggression and all the thoughts that played in the shadows. 

To some degree, for a while at least, therapy had helped him control those urges that tried desperately to provoke him. Yet now he'd tasted the life again, it had undone all the good the years of treatment had done. He was finding it hard and harder every day to resist taking up the shady jobs that crossed his path. The urges that tormented his temper, and excited his libido. 

Of course there were no guarantees that the new therapist was going to be any good. He knew it wouldn't be a quick fix, but there was a little hope, and that would have to be good enough for now.


	2. Wolf At The Door

Thursday came quickly, as he'd hoped, and he left home without a word to anyone. Finding that the late morning traffic was lighter than expected, he managed to navigate across town without any dramas and hit an almost straight run of green lights. In the ten years he'd lived in Los Santos he'd learned the streets like the back of his hand. An old habit from his days spent planning heists and out running cops. 

The address he'd been given wasn't much further from his house than his previous therapists place. Ten minutes away from his front door on clear roads, maybe up to forty in heavy Los Santos traffic. The Great Ocean Highway was an enjoyable drive for him any time of day, regardless of other road users. Views of the water speeding past and the ocean air invading the car were both like a cheap form of medication for him. 

He pulled off the highway smoothly, and steered the car down a road lined with beach houses and condos, that ran parallel with the shore. He'd been given a number and began counting off residences. The instructions in the email said the house in question was four doors down from the twenty-four-seven at the end of the street, where parking was apparently available. That would have been helpful, had he not been coming from the opposite direction. 

He was quickly getting impatient, his inner voice busily trying to tell him how stupid the whole idea was, as he crawled the car along the street. Focusing hard on finding the right place, until he finally pulled up alongside a rather industrial looking house, with tubs of bright flowers framing the drive and a bright yellow awning hanging above the front door, but no windows street side. 

There wasn't much to see out front, but oddly the garage door was open, showing signs of life, and also preventing him from parking up on the driveway. Stopped at the curb up ahead, half up on a strip of hilly land opposite, was a small box truck. He pulled up behind it and idled the engine for a moment. The trucks back doors were open showing it was empty inside. He looked across the street to his left, and noted that the large, open garage door revealed a mass of cardboard boxes. 

It didn't take much to deduce that the truck was obviously dropping something off to the good doctor's house. The scene suggested he'd arrived too early, and he checked the clock on the dash. Sure enough, he was five minutes ahead of his slot, but not being one to normally make, or keep, appointments, he figured early was better than late. Even if the good doctor was still with a patient, he was keen to get things moving before he could talk himself out of it again. 

He killed the engine and ducked out of the car, before he could start talking himself out of what he was doing. Stalking quickly across the quiet street he approached the heavy wooden front door and scanned for a bell, or a knocker but before he could spot one, the door burst open and two burly looking guys in boiler suits barrelled out. 

His jumped back, his natural defences automatically kicking in, sending his hand going for his back, where a gun would usually have been waiting, but his sharp eyes quickly noted the logo on the boiler suits and he stood down from code red. They were part of the moving company, he guessed that Dr. Nardovino hadn't been in town very long after all. 

One of the men caught the door, stopping it from closing and held it open for Michael to take. "I got an appointment..." he said, feeling some odd need to explain himself. 

"I think it's cool to go up man, mind the boxes though!" the Latin looking guy suggested and Michael moved fast to grab the door and stepped through into a small foyer. 

It was narrow and cool inside, lit with natural light from a tall window made of glass bricks on the right hand side. He looked around for a moment, guessing the door to his right lead through into the garage, so instead he took the stairs up to the first floor. Heading towards the warm glow of sunshine coming from the upper window and the open door that lead into his new therapists condo. 

Arriving on the small landing, he gave a cheerful but firm knock on the glass panelled door and took a step back. Since making the appointment, in quiet moments, his mind had sometimes wandered to thoughts of his new therapist. 

Imaging what he'd look like, what ivory tower he'd be looking down at him from. He imagined Friedlander two-point-oh. Some smug shithead who was keen on handing out judgements and distain. His inner voice was about to start telling him all the reasons to ditch again. Trying to convince him why he should ditch and go back to the car, but the door suddenly clicked open and every logical thought shut down.

"...Er.... _hi_...." he mumbled out, his jaw feeling slack with surprise. His eyes greedily taking in the tall, slender young woman who stood in the doorway. Dressed in a low cut, long sleeved, white blouse and a tight fitting black pencil skirt. She looked more than a little flustered. Her curly dark hair was tied up in a messy bun and judging by how she tried to kick a box that was blocking the door out of the way, he assumed time had gotten away from her. 

"I'm here to see Dr. Nardovino." He offered, his brain not fully connecting the dots. "Michael De Santa." he introduced, pointing at himself. 

"Yes! _Of course._ Come in." she offered, stepping back into the house, allowing him to enter. 

Observant as ever, he quickly looked around the place. Unlike where Friedlander worked, the house appeared to be open plan. On the far side of the room, sectioned off by a half-wall, was a large, bright kitchen and smart dining area, which left the rest of the space for a living room. There was an open wooden stair case to the near side of the room, that he assumed lead up to the bed and bathrooms. More glass brick windows flanked the sides of the house, shining soft, warm light in. Casting down on the brown cardboard boxes that seemed to be scattered everywhere. Some open with their contents spilling out, others still sealed with mystery. 

As he turned his head to the left, to his joy, he saw the entire western wall was glass, with patio doors that lead out onto a large balcony, and showed off an unhindered ocean view, that practically blew him away. As soon as he saw it, his feet began to wander over to the windows to look out on the water, but he stopped himself. 

_Where was Dr. Nardovino?_

He pulled his eyes away from the view and turned back to the woman who was looking at him with big, curious, blue eyes. Despite her slightly flustered appearance, she still looked smart. _Powerful._ He would have felt somewhat under dressed in her company, if it wasn't for the fact he was wearing a slick grey suit. 

He'd unknowingly assumed she must be his new therapists wife, or girlfriend. She was still barefoot, and was obviously running late for some kind of professional gig in the city. A lawyer maybe? Something corporate, he guessed, but suddenly she was extending her hand to him and for a moment, his brow furrowed. 

She wasn't surprised by the frown on his face, it was expected. "I'm Dr. Nardovino." she introduced. 

Michael's mouth moved but no sound came out for a moment. ".... _You're_...."

"A woman." she stated, dropping her hand. 

"Yeah...." he said breathily, somewhat ashamed of his presumptions. 

She understood instantly and made a move for a glass coffee table nestled amongst a soft looking L-shaped couch and chairs, where her filofax was waiting. "If that's a problem for you, I can suggest another therapist..." she offered, picking up the leather bound diary, and turning back to him as she flicked through her contacts. 

Michael looked at her deeply. She was beautiful, far too beautiful to be sitting in a beach house, neighboured by foreclosures, dressed like a million bucks and ready to listen to an idiot like him whining about his trivial problems. 

"No!" he called out to stop her getting ahead of herself. "It's.....I mean....I...." he couldn't find the words. She looked to him for her cue, unsure what he wanted to do. "I don't mind...it's just....I was expectin'....." he sighed, dropping his shoulders and throwing up his hands in defeat. "I don't know _what_ I was expectin'." he released, turning his head back to the ocean again for a moment before looking back to her. Drawing to look at her mouth, as she lightly bit on her bottom lip, full and painted powerful red. 

"I completely understand if you're uncomfortable. I should have told you I was female when you made the appointment." Michael's instinct said an apology should have followed her statement, but she held it back. She wasn't going to apologise for being a woman, and he liked that. 

"It's okay." he agreed. "It's gonna take some gettin' used to n'all, but...I'm down to try it out...." he offered. "If you'll have me?" 

She smiled warmly, but he could see she felt awkward, just as he did. "Of course." she agreed, looking at him for a moment longer than she should have. 

Truth was, she was as surprised to see him as he was her. While reading his file, she'd pictured an absolute monster of a man. She hadn't imagined him to be so smartly dressed and strong looking. Hewas taller than she'd imagined too and she certainly hadn't thought for a second he'd be so damn handsome either. 

Rugged looking, with the heavy stubble around his jaw, broad shoulders cut out perfectly by a well tailored suit. Michael De Santa in the flesh, was nothing like the demon she'd envisioned in her head.

She quickly snapped out of her contemplation and gestured to the couch. "Please take a seat. I'm sorry about the mess. The movers were supposed to be here two weeks ago, but there was some screw up with the shipping company and they just showed up out of the blue this morning." she rambled, hating having lost control over her environment.

Michael did as she suggested, as she quickly moved over to near the half-wall that divided the room and slipped her bare feet into a pair of black heels. 

He watched with keen eyes. She was at home, safe and comfortable, she had no reason to be putting her feet in shoes, but he assumed it was perhaps her marker for professionalism. Someway of separating her home life with her career. A uniform of sorts. "Can I get you a drink, or anything?" she offered, looking back to him. 

"No, I'm good, doc." he said, leaning back into the soft beige couch, nearest to the fireplace, but still with the best view of the ocean. "This is a nice place you got here." 

"Thanks." she smiled politely, smoothing out her shirt and skirt, before grabbing up his file from the kitchen counter and hurrying over to join him. "It's not ideal for practicing. I'm looking to get an office downtown..." Michael cut her off. 

"No, doc, this is fuckin' perfect. I mean, look at that view." he gestured. "Who wouldn't want to pour their heart out lookin' at that ocean." 

She chuckled softly, as she took her place opposite him, sitting down in a soft, light grey chair with light wood arms. She sat delicately, knees together, angled with knees pointing towards him, feeling a little exposed in the short skirt she'd chosen that morning. 

She told herself to relax, not to worry about the dangerous villain that was sitting in her living room, but the deep seeded trust issues she had of her own were beginning to awaken. All the things she'd read about him came flooding back in, reminding her of the deluge of destruction and terror the attractive man before her had caused. 

The other clients she'd seen since arriving in town and taking over from Dr. Friedlander were all benign. Mainly self obsessed actors and actresses, complaining about being out of work, or not getting paid enough for their incredible talents. Cheating husbands or mistresses justifying their actions and looking for validation in who to blame for them. Couples who hated each other but used therapy as proof they were trying to make it work. Parents and teenagers who constantly butted heads on the slightest issue.

Michael De Santa however, was a different kind of beast all together. If the notes were true, she had just let a wolf in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far. If you enjoyed it, and would like to see more, please let me know.


	3. Talk To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly and most importantly, big thanks to all you lovely people who left me feedback and kudos on the first couple of chapters. 
> 
> I had wanted to post an update earlier, but since this covers Michael's first session with his new therapist, it's pretty long and I wanted to be sure it was as good as it could be before releasing it into the wild. We're going to be getting caught up on what's happened in his life since the end of the game. I've tried to reference a lot of what actually happens in the game, especially the things outside of the main story. Events that occur and things that are said at Michael's house, during optional hang-outs and what not. There are also a few hints about Dr. Nardovino's backstory and I hope she's becoming both believable as a therapist and likeable/relatable as a female character. 
> 
> Enjoy!

"So," Dr. Nardovino began as she placed Michael's file on the coffee table between them, before leaning back into her chair, trying to show she was more relaxed than she actually felt. Doing her best to ignore how the enchanting scent of his expensive cologne had invaded her living space. "I've looked over Dr. Friedlander's notes, and I have a loose idea of who you are, your history, your life and such, but I'd like for you to tell me about yourself, in your own words."

Michael really didn't like the idea of her having preconceived ideas about who he was, but he was too busy fighting his eyes from being drawn to her long toned legs, to give it any considerable thought. 

The doctor wasn't oblivious to where his eyes were placed, although she tried to show any reaction. She knew that wasn't a good start to the session, or their professional relationship. However, she also knew that even though he as a patient in need of her help, he was also a predator who would smell weakness if she let herself show it. 

"What's to tell?" he shrugged, pulling his eyes off her. Faced with the discomfort of having to rehashing the story of his early life for such a pretty young thing was quickly making him doubt that another round of therapy was right for him. 

Knowing she'd likely already passed judgement on him, based on what had been written in his notes, was enough to make him want to clam up, but there stronger part of him pushed for him to talk. Needing to vent to someone who would actually listen. He had to give her the benefit of the doubt and open up, at least this once. 

"Grew up in the mid-west. Abusive father. In prison as much as I was out of it. Failed football career thanks to a couple injuries and on account of...my _aggression issues_." his voice low as he fed her the appropriate markers for her to analyse him. 

It was obvious that part of his life was still a major thorn in his side. She had read as much, and had already developed a theory for how his past had directly influenced his present. 

"Do you think this could be why you've chased wealth and success?" she deduced from Friedlander's notes, that the root of many of his problems lay with his early failures. A nagging regret that he always carried with him, deep seated issues with never being able to please his father. Barely buried anguish for losing out on the professional sports career, which could have seen him achieve fame and fortune, fast cars, faster women, money to burn. All of which he seemed to crave and pursue in his career as a thief. 

"Jesus!" Michael exclaimed. "You don't fuck around, do ya Doc?" he asked, biting back his urge to be more sarcastic and aggressive, but remaining a little taken aback by how upfront and unnervingly accurate she was. 

"It's not my job to beat around the bush, Michael." 

An odd sensation stirred through him at the sound of his name on her lips; warm against the cold spotlight he felt himself under. Maybe the second round of therapy wouldn't be so unfavourable after all. 

"Guess not." he gave back in a mutter. 

They looked at each other for a moment, her blue eyes were keenly encouraging him to answer her question, as she quietly feared she may have pushed too hard too soon. However, he didn't notice as his eyes were fixated on her mouth. The full lips, painted a bold red, the sight of which would have made most men's balls shrink in fear. 

"Well?" she asked, guessing that his mind was already starting to stray but not being willing to allow him to avoid the question she'd posed. 

He slumped back into the sofa and looked off to the ocean again. "Yeah...I mean, _of course_. I fucked up my shot at the big time...." he said bitterly. "I wasn't good at anything else until I got pulled into this life." he confessed and before he knew it, his mouth was spilling his minds contents all over her living room. "...Runnin' all the damn time, trying to avoid getting clipped. The more I dodged the bullets on the job, the more outlaw became the only thing I wanted to _try_ to do." the way the words were so eager to escape his mouth told him he'd gone too long without an outlet. "...Getting that rush, like I got from the game....out running everyone, scoring the touchdown, the big win." he put out, more thinking aloud to himself than offering her the information. 

He'd already given her plenty to work with, but she allowed him to carry on talking. Sensing she'd turned on a faucet in him that needed to run itself dry. "But then....the kids came along. You can't keep riskin' your neck when you've got something to lose. When you have to provide." he looked thoughtful, his mind cast back in time, reliving all the emotions he felt ten years earlier. The regrets, the failed dreams, broken promises, and lost wishes. 

"And how did that make you feel?" she asked, sticking to shrink code one-oh-one. 

Michael gave a huff of laughter at the familiar question. He wasn't sure he wanted to say it, but before he could hold back he was speaking. "I love my kids, doc....if it wasn't for needin' to get out for them...I'd be dead right now, _no doubt_." she nodded understandingly. "But..." he hesitated. "I'm always been thinkin' about what could have been if they hadn't come along. Feelin' like maybe I missed out on something... _real_." 

She nodded understandingly. "Do you think life would be better, or worse?" 

"I dunno. I can never decide." he shrugged, with a soft shake of his head. "I know that I wouldn't be here right now, in any sense. Maybe I could have taken a big score earlier, gotten out on my own, without fuckin' people over." 

She sensed that all elements of his past were a very sore subject, underneath the bravado she could already tell a lot of guilt weighted him down. She wanted to dig much deeper but feared getting too intense it during their very first session might scare him off. Or at very least effect the relationship they needed to nurture in order for his therapy to work. 

"Are you currently...." she searched for the right word for a beat "... _active_ , in the industry?" 

He looked up at her, relieved she was being creative with how she addressed his illegal activities. "Kinda." he admitted, grateful she'd moved away from his darkness of his past, but being unsure where he stood in the present. "I got an opportunity..." he said, scanning her face to see if she understood what he was getting at, and she gave a nod indicating she did. "But I'm doing this movie thing now...and I love it....I really do." he said enthusiastically. 

"But?" she asked. 

Michael looked away from her, not liking how obvious he was apparently being. "I kinda wanna do the job." he admitted. "It's a huge risk, but you know....I hate it when I'm in, crave it when I'm out. Rinse and repeat." he joked. 

She understood better than she could comfortably let on to him. "As long as you make the decision to participate consciously..." 

Michael struggled not to roll his eyes - the psychobabble was getting intense earlier than he'd expected. "I dunno why I can't resist this shit." he said, almost laughing as he looked down at himself. He knew he'd been incredibly lucky to get away clean from his return to the life of crime, and he was continually away of how that look could run out at any point. "I sold people out to get away from this life, and I've got money in the bank, more than I could blow in a lifetime, but it ain't even sure if I want to be out anymore....it's not even about the money...I'm not even sure if it ever was." 

"It's about the rush." she took over. Understanding exactly where he was coming from, and sensing his was likely addicted to the thrill of the danger. 

He looked up at her again. "That obvious, huh?" 

"It's makes you feel alive, and that's the only thing your money can't buy." 

Looked at her intensely for a moment, before nodding. _She got it!_ A fucking shrink actually got it! He laughed to himself, surprised that after all these years he was shown someone outside of 'the life' could actually understand one of the strongest appeals of it. 

The way he was looking at her made her feel strange, and she was unsure if it was for good, or bad reasons. She'd obviously made some kind of impact but she wanted to steer away from any potential for having to explain the exactly reasons _why_ she understood his mindset. So she moved on quickly, trying to recall the list of things she needed to touch on with him. 

"Tell me, are you still using alcohol as a form of escapism?" she asked. Having read in Dr. Friedlander's notes about all the vices he frequently indulged. 

Michael laughed. "It's the only one I've got." 

"And smoking?" her predecessor had touched on the topic of quitting with him once before, but apparently it didn't go over particularly well. Booze and nicotine were apparently the only reliable way to quell the devil inside him. 

From her tone, he knew exactly what was coming. "Yeah, _why_?"

"Well, we're here trying to improve your mental health, it would be a good thing to try and improve your physical health and lifestyle in general too."

Michael rolled his eyes, she was starting to sound like Amanda. "Doc? I'm a career criminal. I've been shot at more than a firing range target. Quitting smoking seems a pointless when half the time I'm dodging bullets with my name on." 

She knew it would be a touchy subject for him, and that she was a hypocrite as an occasional smoker and drinker herself. "But you're making an effort to try and focus on a more legitimate career at Richard's Majestic now, correct?"

Michael gave her a look which said she was fighting a losing battle, he enjoyed smoking - drinking too. It was one of the few things in life that gave him pleasure _without_ crossing into morally questionable activities. He wasn't giving it up for anyone. 

"I'm healthy, Doc. I play tennis, and golf....my wife got me into yoga..." he informed somewhat cynically. "I even ran a couple of triathlons for Christ sake. I can have it all." his attitude was outwardly cocky, but something said deep down he doubted his own words. 

She held in a sigh, sensing there was no point in further pushing lifestyle the issue with him. His notes said that stubbornness was one of his qualities and she'd assumed she would have to pick her battles with him carefully. 

"How's home life?" she asked, switching pace. "Is that's more stable now? Or is there anything that you feel might, push you towards certain past behaviours?" 

"Shit. It doesn't take much to push me into anything these days." he pondered. "Things at home are just... _weird_. I kinda avoiding going back there at lot." he confessed. The doctor immediately sensed that his feelings on his current home life was a hornets' nest waiting to be cracked open. 

"So what do you spend your time doing instead?" she anticipated him to admit to going to bars, strip clubs, extra marital affairs and the like. That was a fairly common route taken by men of his disposition in his situation. 

"Well....I invested the money I've made recently, bought a theatre..." he said proudly, but his tone changed. "Thought that'd be fun...I mean what the hell could go wrong with owning a theatre, right?" he asked her and she nodded in agreement. "Jesus fuckin' Christ....the problems, I can't even tell ya...more stress than it's ever worth."

"Has that caused you to.... _act out_?" she pried. 

Michael stretched his neck and rocked his head, his unconscious tick he could rarely control when he felt his inner aggressions stir. "Yeah. I can't help myself." 

She resisted the urge to announce he'd indirectly hit the nail on the head. His issues were so inherent and long standing, that as Dr. Friedlander warned, he was almost beyond help. However, she sensed that boredom and frustration probably had a lot to answer for in explaining some of his actions. Fortunately they were both things that she believed he could learn to navigate around. 

"....I'm trying hard not to be an asshole." he defended, keen to move away from his behaviours and not wanting to give finer details. "This movie thing....I mean, I don't wanna fuck it up. Like you said, it's a legit job." he seemed almost proud, but quickly darkened. "...but Jesus fuckin' Christ if there ain't always someone constantly wantin' a piece of me there too. Pushin' my Goddamn buttons." he complained, beginning to gesticulate angrily. "And then I come home and....I mean...my wife....she went from pissin' and moanin' about how I was stuck in the house all the time doing nothin', now I'm out there doin' stuff, it's too much. _I'm never home_ , I'm not around for her and kids. Can't win." he growled, his hands and arms still animated by his pent up aggression. Something about his body language said that at any moment he'd be up on his feet pacing around like a caged lion. 

"Do you think perhaps you've taken too much on, too fast?" 

"Fuckin' A right I have! _Fuck!_ " he growled sardonically but his tone softened. "But I'm a glutton for punishment." 

"Evidentially." she said, with a kind smile. 

Michael chuckled softly, his stirring fury sated for a moment by her gentle wit. "Can't do right for doing wrong." he mumbled to himself. 

"But do you enjoy doing wrong?" she quizzed. 

His blue eyes met hers, and her held her gaze for a moment. An air of hostility came across from him but it wasn't threatening. It was simply a result of his surprise to her challenging him with such a question. "I do....I _really do_.....and I know that's really fuckin' wrong but-" he stopped short, not caring to elaborate. 

"We all have our own vices." she offered. He looked up at her, seemingly urging her to elaborate more, to justify his actions for him. 

She was merging into a grey area, and knew that she shouldn't absolve his sins, but she'd always struggled with how her own beliefs fit with the ones she was told she _should have_ as a therapist. "We all do what we feel we need to survive....and that comes in many forms." he listened closer, wanting her to validate him actions somehow. "Most people are doing things they don't agree with, just to keep paying the mortgage, or to hold on to the fancy car for a little longer. Others get into debt just to keep a roof over their heads, or perhaps fund a life they feel they need to have..."

"Buying shit you don't need, to impress people you don't even like?" Michael asked, having read a similar point in the form of a quote somewhere before. 

She nodded, holding back her surprise at someone like him, in his expensive suit and Italian leather shoes, saying such a thing. "Some people end up doing drugs because they can't function without the high, others lie compulsively because they can't handle their own reality.... So you're not _abnormal_ in the sense that you're doing what you need to survive on a personal level. It's just that your life has lead you to the extreme ends of the spectrum. You're only significantly different in that your choices impact many more people than just yourself, but life forces us into to a lot of things, just to keep living, and stay sane."

Michael snorted a laugh, ignoring her finer point. "You think I'm sane? The other guy thought I was....what did he call me? _Deranged_. He write that in my notes?"

"Well, Dr. Friedlander was perhaps a little, _judgemental_." 

"And you're not?" 

She thought for a moment. She'd always struggled with herself while studying to qualify for her doctorate. Her superiors had pulled her up on how she found it hard keep following the mindset and guidelines she was supposed to. 

"We all are." she told him, afraid she was talking too much but she couldn't stop. "You judged me the moment you walked in." her words were confident, and Michael's expression almost turned sheepish, feeling something vaguely similar to shame in that he'd been so obvious. "It's human nature....and besides, I don't think anyone is truly sane. Everyone is fighting their own battle. Everyone has their own personal definition of _normal_. I'm not going to try and stuff you into a box, with a label on." 

Michael nodded enthusiastically, suddenly feeling glad he took the plunge to come to her. It all looked like she would maybe understand him, give him the sympathy he desperately craved. "The other guy was pretty keen on condemning me." 

"Well, let's get one thing clear." she said, her voice changing tone as she sat up straighter, showing some authority. Michael recoiled slightly at her change, bracing for her to undo all the good she'd just done. "I do not condone what you do." she said firmly and he broke eye contact with her. Instantly scolding himself for ever assuming she would. "In this job I've seen both sides." she continued. "The perpetrator, the victim and everyone caught in the crossfire....but my job isn't to judge you." he looked up at her again, an odd sensation within him that he couldn't name. "It's to try to help you come to understand yourself and control your actions. So that you can see the consequences to yourself, and others. Which in time, _I hope_ , will override your urges to do wrong, and help you make better life choices. Be more mindful and have more control over yourself." 

"God knows I could use a little more control in my life." he mumbled, somewhat despondently. 

She didn't yet want to touch on his issues with control and how he often seemed to contrast that with wilful neglect, knowing it was a can of worms that required more time to address than they had left, so she moved on. 

"From your notes, I understand that your wife and children left the family home due to some of your actions. Do you feel like those same actions are likely to reoccur now that you have legitimate interests?" 

Michael looked thoughtful for a beat, still trying to digest everything she'd just hit him with. "I dunno" he shrugged, looking down into his hands. "At first, I thought the money and the studio stuff was the answer to all my problems...Amanda was playing real nice...smiles and pleasantries. The kids were behaving themselves, she was tolerating me breathing...everything was going great..."

" _But?_ "

His eyes met hers again, and his lips started moving before he could think his words through. "Didn't take long for the cracks to open up again." he told unhappily. "It was all just superficial bullshit, we were just forcing it work...and now, it's slowly turning back into how it was before...She's trying to keep it together, probably because she doesn't want to be the one to blame for this second shot failing, but she's struggling. Her insults are coming in with this tone now..." 

"What tone?" the doctor asked, assuming he was talking about his long suffering wife.

"This fuckin' _sing-song_ tone." he griped. "Like the other day, she calls me her.... _what was it?_...." he thought for a moment. " _Flawed_ but _almost loveable_ husband. With this fuckin' smile in her voice which just makes me want to...." he stopped himself but only managed to pause for a beat; unable to hold back the anger bubbling in his throat. "....And you know, I've been trying not to notice that kinda shit, because the more I think about it..." his voice was getting louder and his hands were flailing wildly again. "....the more fuckin' crazy it makes me. It's all fake as fuck....and I can't stand it!" he was practically yelling, his voice gruff with suddenly boiling rage. 

She didn't say anything for a moment, she just watched as he sat there looking around angrily, his breathing becoming ragged, as his mind raced. She needed to steer him away from placing blame on one individual in his family and to try and make him understand why things were as they were based on his own actions and responsibilities. 

"What do you feel your families motives are for being superficial?" 

"The money I guess." he turned the palms of his hands up in uncertainly. "Part of me thinks Amanda actually wanted to make it work...the other part thinks she'd just tried the alternative and realized she was better off putting up and shutting up with me and my shit, than banging some dickhead yogi with an anal fixation." the unresolved aggression over that issue was powerful in his voice. "But nothing I do is good enough for her." he continued. "She's got more money than she knows what to do with, freedom to do whatever the hell she wants. She doesn't even have to lift a finger, the housekeeper does everything for her, and still she finds something to bitch about." he hissed. "I'm still a pig and she's still judging my every move....And on top of all that, she's driving me fuckin' crazy with this house remodelling." he ranted. 

Trying to center herself in the face of his outburst, the doctor took a silent deep breath before speaking. "Was that her idea?" she asked, knowing he had a tendency to blame others for the problems he'd created himself. 

"Of course!" Michael exclaimed. "There's nothing wrong with the house, it's flawless, but I've got money and it's burning a hole in my bank account apparently. She smells it, and she's gotta spend it...Redecorating, plastic surgery, new cars, _whatever the fuck!_..." he threw his hands out, emphasising his anger. "And I know she's just itching to bitch at me about how I got it all, but she keeps biting her tongue..." he growled. "She's desperate to take the moral high ground with me, but she knows she can't while she's having so much fun spending my blood money....but she'll snap eventually....I've known her for over twenty years, she can't keep this shit up much longer, and neither can I!" he said darkly. 

Dr. Nardovino sensed he was on the edge of giving into the triggers that goaded at him. "Have you considered that she's trying to be civil, keep herself busy, give you both a common interest..." she reasoned. 

Michael jumped in. "A _common interest_?" he exclaimed. "I couldn't give less of a shit about what colour she paints the fuckin' bathroom..." he barked, stabbing the air angrily. "But she's texting me all the Goddamn time about it. _Do I think wheat grass, or fuckin' avocado would be a better colour?_ " he mocked her tone, rocking his head from side to side as if to imitate his wife's nagging. " _Do I like the chrome or the gold fixtures_.....and whatever I say, she seems to just go and do the exact fuckin' opposite, so what's the fuckin' point in nagging at me with that shit?" he hissed. 

The doctor swallowed hard, trying desperately not to acknowledge how good he looked when he was angry; how his voice dropped to a gravelly rasp. 

He rolled his neck again and continued. "...And you know?" his call to her made her focus clear. "Maybe I should be glad that she's textin' and callin' about it all the time, because at least I know if she's textin' me, she's not fuckin' the decorator." 

Dr. Nardovino, took a deep breath on his behalf. He was a ball of rage, for sure and the feelings he was rousing within her were highly inappropriate. His temper was concerning but she couldn't help but find it uncomfortably appealing. 

She had been deliberately avoiding questioning his fidelity, but given the way she was feeling and the fact he'd bought it up, she couldn't silence herself. There would be no better time to mention it. 

"Have you remained faithful to her since reconciling?"

"Yeah." Michael said honestly, his mind instantly rushing over to the corner of his mind where his fantasies grew and thrived. Where ones about the woman in front of him were rapidly blossoming. "I mean, I'm trying _really fuckin' hard_." he was suddenly very aware of the fact that his eyes were in her cleavage and he tore them away, but felt no guilt. 

"That's good." she nodded, not unaware of where he was looking. Her hands wanted to move in and adjust the neckline of her top, but she didn't want to seem concerned or vulnerable from the way his eyes wondered, and held that moment too long. "Do you have any reason to believe she's not doing you the same courtesy?"

Michael shrugged, his previously fiery anger on hold for a moment, making him seem suddenly nonchalant. "I dunno.....I didn't have any reason to think she was fuckin' the tennis coach right under my nose, but she was." he said thoughtfully. "....When she first got back in the house, she was all about _boundaries_ and bullshit....and I swear to God..." Dr. Nardovino could sense his barely sated anger was bubbling up again "...she must have been draining the stock of batteries in this town single handed, because she was working the shit out of her fuckin' vibrator every ten minutes." he snarled. 

The doctor bit the inside of her lip hard, stopping herself focusing on him so unprofessionally. Controlling her own amusement at his words, the situation was serious for sure, but there was something about his reaction that she found oddly humorous. 

The direction he took the conversation in reminded her that she needed to touch on the subject of sex with him eventually, but she wasn't sure if it was the right time to. Although she feared a truly appropriate time would never come. 

" _Then_...." he said snatching the chance to lead from her, needing to vent about everything that had happened since his last therapy session. "...I got clear of all the bullshit that was hanging over me....and took the big score...and she's all over me again....And it was good, but it only lasted about a month before she started medicating herself and drinking bottles of wine before bed..." he told grimly. "Now she's back to making sure she's in bed before me. Laying there with that green shit on her face, reading her lifestyle bullshit magazines and turning off the light before I can even get a sniff..." he stopped short, realizing how hateful he sounded about his wife, the mother of his children, in front of another woman. 

Her blue eyes on him suddenly made him feel uncomfortable; concerned that maybe he'd gone too far and showed her first hand what an asshole he truly was. Proving all the terrible things he guess Friedlander had written about him to be true. His instinct told him to switch the focus quickly, to give him a chance deflect from his hate filled outburst. 

"What about you, Doc?" he asked "you married?" 

She bit her tongue, holding back the urge to tell him not to ask her such personal questions, and to force him back around to focus on his own martial issues. He needed to take a look at what he was doing to cause his wife to act how she had been, but before she could stop herself she was answering his question.

"No, I'm not..." she went to move on with her own line of questioning, feeling things could get very uncomfortable, _very quickly_ , but Michael pushed for more, leaning forward enquiringly. 

"Boyfriend?" 

She titled her head to the side, giving him a look of that could have been interpreted as annoyance, but it didn't encourage him to take the question back. If anything, it spurred him on. "No." she answered flatly. 

He tilted her head towards her, his eyes glinting. " _Girlfriend_?"

She laughed lightly, at the almost playful look on his face. "No."

"Well this _is_ Los Santos. _You never know_." he smiled, charming as the devil himself. She felt her chest and face flush. The way he was looking at her bought inappropriate thoughts to the forefront of her mind and Michael was perceptive enough to know he had her in a corner. He liked to play a little cat and mouse, to indulge the darker side of himself. "Gorgeous girl like you, I thought you'd be beatin' 'em off with a stick." 

Dr Nardovino quickly silenced the foolish, attention starved girl inside, her who was squealing obnoxiously about the compliment he just gave her, and remained firm in her professional resolve. 

"My stick beating days are over." she said, piquing Michael's curiosity. 

He went to pry a little more, but she broke her eye lock with him and smoothed out the hem of her skirt, buying herself a moment to gather herself and prematurely ending the moment between them. 

"What about your children?" she asked quickly, keen to put her train of thought back on track after the way he'd derailed it. "Are they aware of any of the tensions between you and your wife? Do you consider them the cause of any difficulties?"

Michael's mind was snatched away from attempting to tormenting his new therapist, and he laughed aloud at her question. " _The cause of difficulties?_ " he mocked, melting back into the couch. "Jesus! My kids wrote the fuckin' book about being the _cause of difficulties_." 

Dr. Nardovino almost regretted asking, it was obviously another issue that needed to be tackled head on somewhere down the line, but she allowed him to continue. "Jimmy tried harder to be a good son, for about a minute...He quit selling drugs and even got a job at Burger Shot..." he said, hope in his voice that made the doctors eyebrows raise in curiosity, but his tone quickly soured. "....You'd think it was asking some huge fuckin' feat of human achievement for him to get his ass out of bed to be on time for his shift...." Michael raged, his hands moving madly again. "....And somehow I always end up having to fuckin' drive him in, because he's too fuckin' lazy to bike it there and back...." he said resentfully. "I dunno where he gets it from, I was never sitting around at his age. I was out there doing!" he spat. "He knows I got money in the bank, so he thinks he's entitled to do jack shit because of it, get a free ride....But _let me tell ya_..." he stabbed his finger in the doctors direction. "My dad didn't go easy on me, so I'm not gonna let him sit around all day doin' fuckin' nothin'....He ain't gonna be some rich brat! Wasting his fuckin' time playing that dumb fuckin' game incessantly, day and night.....The only time the sound of gunfire and screaming isn't echoing around my house is when he's jerking off or sleepin'!" he ranted passionately. 

Again, the good doctor bit her tongue, thinking for a moment before responding to his anger. She could easily understand his genuine fatherly concerns for his son, but his anger and frustrations had poisoned the way he handled the problems. Perhaps involuntarily making the mistakes his own father had with him as a boy. 

"As a source of conflict resolution, you could always get him a set of headphones...." she suggested. 

"Shit. I tried that already." he informed, his exasperated tone softening his anger slightly. "Says he can't use 'em because of some bullshit reason or another. I think he just likes pissing me off." 

"Perhaps sound proofing might be something to consider in your remodelling?" she offered, a hint of humour in her voice. 

"Now _that_ , is a good idea." the rage inside him halted and a smile broke through, drawn out by the way her eyes sparkled with wit. 

Her gentle smile faded away slowly, as his eyes drew her in, clouding over her thoughts and shutting down her higher brain power. He really was handsome, and she resented him for it. Wishing he'd been the hideous monster she'd imagined from Dr. Friedlander's notes. It would have been so much easier to retain a professional thought pattern if he looked as evil as he'd been made to sound. 

She'd was acutely aware of how risky it was to feel any kind of attraction to a client, no matter how small. She'd spent the best part of the last seven studying and interning, trying to qualify for her own practice, and never once in all that time has she been even remotely attracted to a patient, or a professor, or even a fellow student. Yet there he was, one of her first private practice clients. This thief - _a murderer_ \- sitting in the living room of her new house, making an uncomfortable heat grow at her center. 

Her professional brain suddenly clicked back online and she broke their eye lock with him. Sitting up straighter in her seat, pulling at the hem of her skirt again as she cleared her throat. Her brain scrambling to reboot into another line of questioning to distract from what was going on inside her. 

"And your daughter, _Tracey_?" 

Michael smiled inside; he knew exactly what was happening to her. The temptation to ignore her question and torture her a little more came to him, but the better part of him knew it would be cruel. He didn't want to give her a reason to reject him as a patient, so he gave her a temporary pass. Pulling his eyes off her to focus on answering the question. 

"Well, she started college...."

"That's great." the doctor enthused, but Michael's expression darkened as he gave a dismissive huff of laughter. 

"She stuck at it for about a month....just enough time for me to have paid up all the fees, bought her all the shit she needed.....Then she meets this fuckin' shit-heel boyfriend and decides she's not about college anymore and moves down to Vespucci with him." he sounded bitter but not as angry as before. Their vague little flirtation had temporarily soothed him some. "They're living in this apartment that makes a crack den look like a fuckin' country club.....God only knows what the fuck she's doing down there." he complained, genuine concern layered over his anger for the situation. 

"Are you keeping in touch with her?"

"She calls me when she needs money, or is feelin' guilty....Amanda makes the housekeeper cook meals and she takes them down there for her and this fuckin' douchebag wannabe rockstar asswipe." It didn't take much for the doctor to see just how furious he was over the very thought of this new man in his daughters life. "She's messed with plenty of fuckin' idiots before, but this fuckin' guy..." he trailed off, tensing his jaw, locking in his rage. 

"It's a fathers prerogative to see every man his daughter meets as the devil." she gave. Assuming the guy in question probably wasn't as horrible as Michael made him seem. 

"Speaking from experience, Doc?" he quizzed. 

She tilted her head a little, almost sassily, but she didn't answer the question. She didn't have to, he'd guessed the answer already. "She has to learn to make her own mistakes." the doctor reasoned. "As a father, it's your instinct, and your duty to protect her, but sometimes, the only way to have her learn is by letting her fall..." 

Michael looked at her deeply for a moment. She was still young herself, too young to have been a doctor for very long. He placed her age to be somewhere in her mid to late twenties, but for someone who looked so young, she made a lot of sense. Certainly more sense than Friedlander had made in all their years together. 

"I guess you're right, but it's hard to stand back and watch the fuckin' car crash she's headed for."

"Of course." she agreed. "It's probably harder for you that most, since it seems you like to be in control of what really matters to you." she told him. "Have the option of control taken away from you is suffocating."

That was something she found fascinating about him, how a man who loved chaos, while still craving so much control. Only to then freely relinquish the command he fought for and detach completely or hide behind passive aggression whenever he pleased, or couldn't be bothered to involve himself. 

He would have confused and intrigued so many of her peers and suddenly she felt a sense of gratitude for being able to get inside the head of someone so complex and contradictory. 

"You're fuckin' A right it is!" he agreed, with an enthusiasm that was almost aggressive. 

Just then, a sudden wave of recollection rolled over her. She'd completely lost track of the time. She looked to the clock on the far wall, and it told her she'd almost gone over the hour with him. 

"We're almost out of time, Michael." she said gently, still feeling slightly uncomfortable in his presence but disappointed she couldn't turn over a few more rocks in his head. "I want you to try your best to filter out the trivial things. Learn to take a deep breath and think, _'is this worth me getting angry over'_ and let things go when you can. I know it's a hard thing to do, _impossible sometimes_ , but if you try you might learn to compartmentalize things a little easier, and that might help you in the long term." 

There she was with the psychobabble bullshit again, but he swallowed it. "I'll do my best, Doc." he offered, unconvinced he'd even know where to start. Over the years with Friedlander he'd read a dozen books, countless pills, and tried every technique known to man, but nothing seemed to make a difference. 

She went to stand up, to show him out again, but before she could rise, he spoke again, pulling her back in. 

"What's your first name? I feel weird calling you Doc?"

"Why?" her face turning into a light scowl. "Does the idea of me being a professional emasculate you?" she'd spoken without thinking. Her true bold nature getting the better of her, and she cursed herself for it. 

" _What?_ " he laughed as she panicked. She always struggled with controlling her own mouth, the wilder side of her that she kept locked up under her professional shell. 

Michael looked inside himself for a beat, maybe her air of power did make him feel somewhat inferior, but more than anything it did the opposite of what they'd both anticipated. "Nah!" he dismissed. "If anything, it turns me on...." he said without realizing the implications. 

Her eyes widened suddenly, her brain scrambling for a way to address his confession, but failing amongst the chaos within her. Taken aback by how he'd admitted such a thing, so boldly, and so soon into knowing her. 

He quickly back peddled "I'm sorry!" he held his hands up in surrender. "I'm just thinking out loud." 

She relaxed a little, but kept her guard up. It wasn't that she was offended, or even particularly surprised, given the nature of the beast. She had just hadn't expected him to admit it so blatantly. She certainly hadn't expected his words to send the warm shiver up her back the way they did. 

" _Well_ , that's what you're here to do." she forced out, her throat feeling tight.

She knew everything before her spelled a potential problem between them. If she had any sense she'd hand him the name of another therapist and never lay eyes on him again, but she couldn't find the urge to reject him within her. 

She knew it wasn't uncommon for patients to develop an attraction, or even _love_ , for their therapists. To punish him for it now, could only serve to cause more harm than good. She had to do her best to deal with it, and help him put anything he might come to feel for her into perspective, for both their sakes. 

Michael looked a little ashamed, but he enjoyed flirtation too much to truly chastise himself for it. "I didn't mean to put you in an awkward position, Doc...." he looked at the door and his mind considering making a move for the rip cord, and a bail out. Maybe he'd crossed the line, made her feel uncomfortable around him. Fucking everything up like he always seemed to do. 

She sensed where his head was, and quickly steered him away from the ledge. They'd made progress, and she didn't want to throw it away. "It's fine, I'm glad you feel you can be so honest with me." she offered, knowing she was somewhat at fault for being provocative, and encouraged him to indulge that side of himself. 

She quickly searched her professional brain for a segue, but before she could find one her mouth started moving on its own again. Trying to strengthen the fragile bridges they'd almost set fire to.  
"My name's Cassidy." 

A lazy smirk peeled over Michael's lips, rolling the name around in his mouth for a moment before saying it aloud. "Cassidy, _huh?_ I like that." he nodded. "You prefer Cassie, or Cass?" 

"I prefer Doctor Nardovino." she said flatly. 

Michael chuckled, he liked how she didn't stand for his shit; he sensed some feistiness within her. It was all the spark he needed to venture back into playing with her again.  
"With a last name like that, you gotta be Italian, right?" he asked. Trying to resist indulging himself, but not willing to let her off the hook so easy. 

She fought the urge to sigh, he clearly wasn't going to quit with the personal questions, and she figured it was perhaps best to get them out of the way sooner rather than later. If she appeared too closed off to him, he wouldn't open up to her. They needed to develop a connection if his therapy was ever going to be successful, and that would involve revealing a little of herself. 

"Yes. Italian-Irish, actually."

"No shit!" he exclaimed, but he should have guessed. Her blue eyes and raven hair suggested Irish blood. "My dad was Irish. He was a real mean mother fucker. I bet you got the temper, with the Italian too."

Cassidy could feel the pull of his magnetism making her want to answer all his questions, but the professional walls she'd built up stood their ground and fought back against her growing inner desires. "We're not here to talk about my temper, Michael, we're here to talk about yours."

Michael gave a dismissive 'ach' and waved his hand. He didn't know if it was the fact he'd off loaded onto her, the flirty dynamic that seemed to be coming into bloom between them, or just the fact he was grateful that the universe had given him such a pretty face to look at, but suddenly life didn't seem so wholly awful. 

She rose from her seat, silently insisting he should follow suit and she slowly ushered him to the door. As they walked he noted that the heels on her feet bought her up to his height. She was tall in bare feet, but she easily matched his six feet in heels. Meaning he could look her dead in the eye while they stood face to face. He couldn't help but find something alluring about that, partnering up with what he felt for her position of power to make his mind fill with torrid concepts. 

"Did your notes say that I'm kind of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type'a guy?" Michael asked, trying to practice restraining the sexual urges that were gathering force inside him. "Can I just drop in whenever, or do I need to schedule an appointment?" 

Cassidy held back on telling him the finer details of what his notes said about his appointment keeping, looking at him thoughtfully for a moment. It wasn't correct protocol to allow him to waltz in whenever he pleased, but she knew he needed her, and truth be told, she didn't have much going on in her new Los Santos life that he could interrupt. 

"Drop in's cost more." she said automatically. 

"I know..." he looked at her intently, waiting for her answer. She'd forgotten that money was no object to him, especially when it came to getting what he wanted. 

She hesitated, knowing it was wrong of her to offer, but she couldn't stop herself. "I'd prefer if you made an appointment, but you can call, or..." she hesitated for second. "...come by when you need....within reason of course." 

"Sure." he said cheerfully. "I'm not gonna be rocking up at your door at two am, Doc."

"Alright then." she agreed. Trying to ignore all the voices of her past mentors and all the books she'd read screaming at her about what an idiot she was. How she was being unethical, putting her professional integrity in question, and a thousand other reprimands she would have received not so long ago. 

"Can we say same time next week, for now? You know...to try and get some semblance of order in my fucked up existence?" he wanted to give himself something to look forward to and establish some kind of future for them. 

She smiled softly, her blue eyes twinkling so prettily they reminded Michael of the ocean outside. "Of course. I'll put you in my dairy." she agreed. 

"Alright." he nodded. "I'll see you next week." 

"Goodbye Michael." she said softly, opening the door for him. 

Her saying his name again caused another stir deep within him, and bought his playful side rushing forward. "Goodbye _Cassidy_." he smirked, with that winning charm that oozed from his every pore. 

She glared at him, but there was no hint of hostility in her eyes. In fact, she looked almost playful; amused by his nerve. 

Michael beamed, pleased he'd cracked her shell in the final moments of their time together. "See ya next week." he gave and with that, he was gone. Out the door and down the steps, back into the wild.

Cassidy closed the door, and locked it tight. Cursing herself for all the mistakes she made in the session. She knew he was trouble, trouble she did _not_ need. He was everything she'd been warned about by her peers. He was the proverbial disaster-waiting-to-happen, but she also recognized the signs in her which said she could possibly make a difference in his life. There was also very good chance she'd be counting down the hours until he sat himself down on her couch again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know if you'd like me to keep posting more.


	4. She Is In My Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to everyone who showed their love on the last chapter. Your support and feedback means a lot to me, and is a major help in my writing process. Forgive me for not updating quicker, but I've been away from home so much over the last two weeks that I hadn't had time to do the final edit until now...but better late than never, I guess! 
> 
> This was originally one big mega chapter, but I split it for the sake of easy digestion. I hope you enjoy the two chapters as much as the last one. As always, I'd love to hear what you think and if you're still keen to read more. Enjoy! 
> 
> (P.S the chapter title is a lyric taken from the Rival Sons' song called Girl Is On My Mind)

Michael tried hard as he could to resist the new desires and curiosities that had been planted within him during his first therapy session in weeks. Doing his very best to implement the methods of control he'd learned in the past during his treatment with Dr. Friedlander, and he had managed to win the battle for a few days. Skilfully switching his mind to other topics whenever he found his thoughts attempting to stray. Harshly reminding himself how he promised to be a better man, to be faithful this time. However one night, after a particularly trying day he found his strength to resist temptation drifted just that inch too far out of his reach. 

He found himself sitting on the couch with a glass of whiskey on the table besides him and a cigar in hand, as yelling echoed down from the upper floor of his house; choruses of slamming doors and heavy footsteps pounding over head. Every noise threatening to unleash his barely contained anger, but instead of snapping, he found distraction in letting his hungry mind get the better of him. 

He was only going to have a _quick_ look, just to make sure she was who she claimed to be. Only a little search, to confirm she could be trusted. 

He plucked out his phone and told himself it was purely a fact finding mission, and maybe a harmless little bit of escapism, nothing more to it. Yet the way the noise of his bickering family faded out more and more with every letter he typed of her name, told him it was far more.  
The first EyeFind result was for a private practice in New Austin, where one Doctor Cassidy Nardovino was listed as one of the junior therapists. There was a professional headshot of her alongside a small blurb about her career, which gave nothing of particular interest away. He guessed it was safe to assume that must have been the job she left behind to break out on her own on the west coast. However, he had noted the slightest hint of a Liberty City accent when she spoke, and that was not explained by a life in the south. 

He returned to the minimal search results and clicked the second link which lead to her Life Invader page, but again there wasn't much to see. She used the same picture on her profile as the one put against her name on her former practices webpage. She had a small friends list, made up of mostly professional contacts from what he could tell. She had made no updates, and the page gave no information away about her past or even her present. That teased his curiosity and bought forward a slight sense of concern. 

He knew it wasn't out of the ordinary for people to just have a minimal Life Invader page for networking purposes, but the fact her unusual name yielded so few search results troubled him a little. He a thought popped up in his head, advising him to email Lester to see what he could dig up on her, but the idea pricked his conscience a little too hard. He didn't have a huge list of morals but it felt wrong to invade her privacy, at least without reasonable cause, so he put the idea on hold. 

The lack of images on her profile, unknowingly frustrated him, and as a result he spent a potentially unhealthy amount of time looking at the one picture of her, set against a white background. Admiring her striking blue eyes, sculpted cheekbones, delicate nose, and full lips. Drawn to the hint of darkness in her eyes; somehow sensing she'd seen her fair share of troubles. 

He couldn't deny he'd been instantly attracted to her, but she wasn't the first woman that had caused cartoon hearts to pop up in his eyes, and she wasn't likely to be the last. He knew it was foolish to even consider there being any kind of connection between them, given they'd spent little more than an hour together, but he couldn't shake the feeling there was the start of something being there. Something more than the immediate physical draw. He knew curiosity played a big part in it all, filling him with questions about her; trying to figure out what kind of chequered past may have been locked away behind her professional face. 

However, he knew his default setting was to recoil at the first attempt any pretty face made to tell him their life story. Hell, he barely known Amanda's last name before she was at the altar taking his. Yet every time his mind went to Cassidy, he seemed to find a new question that he wanted answered. 

He guessed her knowing so much about him already, was responsible for encouraging his interest in her, and also the way she seemed to read him well already pulled certain strings inside him. Her ability should have made him uncomfortable, especially since she seemed like a ghost and he couldn't quite read her yet, but he felt there was potential for a dynamic between that would be too good to run away from. Even though he dared not let his mind wander to what the hell she must have thought of him. All the shit she'd read second-hand, all the stuff he'd told her while spilling his guts in her living room. Painting himself to be an ungrateful prick, and the world's worst husband and father. 

When he'd driven home from their first session, he'd found himself troubled by the way everything had come flowing from his mouth so easily. He'd had the foresight to resist revealing too much about his criminal lifestyle, knowing well how too much disclosure could get him into trouble, but during their session he hadn't been able to hold much more of himself back. The benefits of finally being able to rant about life to someone were immense, and overrode any concerns he had about trusting another therapist with his dirty secrets. Just having her sit and listen to him offload had made his shoulders feel a little lighter that week, and there was an odd sense of hope nestled deep in his gut. 

Hope for what, he wasn't yet sure, it may have been closer to excitement, but his negative mind warned that it was unwise to allow himself to feel such things. Knowing that once she got to know the real him, she would despise him too - just like everyone else. If she didn't already. 

However, he guessed until she started showing signs of becoming tired with his attitude and behaviours, maybe he'd learn something from her. If nothing else having a way to let off steam was priceless, and she was a hell of a lot nicer to look at that Friedlander. 

Attraction and intrigue aside, she seemed wise beyond her years, and above all it was just nice to have somewhere to escape to. A place to go where he could shut out the rest of the work, and set the pace. A place where he didn't have to pretend to be keeping it together anymore. 

Of course, a little banter and thinly veiled flirtation didn't hurt either, as long as she was comfortable with it. Although the devil in him thoroughly enjoyed the idea of making her _un_ comfortable. Imagining just how far she might be willing to take things, if he pushed her, just a little bit too far.


	5. Truth and Trust

Thursday came around again, painfully slowly. Michael's morning plans were disrupted by an early telephone call from someone at the studio. Bringing him a large helping of drama in the form of a stressed conversation about a broken pipe on one of the sets. It was more trouble he didn't need and despite being elected to remedy the situation, short of calling around for an emergency plumber, there was little else he could do. 

However, the production assistant insisted on talking aimlessly about the problems the incident had caused on set, piling on more and more stress with each word, and testing Michael's resolve to control his anger. Worst of all, the phone call had eaten up so much time, making him run late. Frustrated, he quickly showered and dressed, eager to hit the road and make it across town in time for his much needed therapy session. 

To his surprise Amanda was awake early enough to see him leave. She stopped him on the stairs to ask where he was headed so early, and he didn't lie. He told her therapy was the only thing that would keep him sane and in reply she'd joked that he'd need far more than that. 

For some reason tone of her voice made it a clear insult, and immediately the impact of her words joined forces with the stresses of his new career, and a black cloud popped up above his head. Souring his mood and causing him to storm out of the house without another word to his long suffering wife. 

The unusually heavy cross-town traffic did nothing to better his outlook on the day as he sped across town for the little enclave near Chumash, that was fast being looked upon as a sanctuary away from all the irritants in his life. 

Sliding off the highway, he followed along his therapists beachside street once more and pulled up onto her driveway, parking next to a new looking carbon black Obey Rocoto. For a second he worried the car belonged to another patient, but even though he was running late, it was far too early for someone else to have taken his slot. 

Without sparing another moment to over think things, he got out of his car and headed to the front door, trying to focus his mind away from the rousing anger that was simmering away inside him as he looked around for a buzzer. Finding one on the wall to his right, he pushed it firmly and hoped that despite being late she would still welcome him inside. If she didn't, there was no doubt that he'd be back in the car looking for the nearest place to get drunk before noon. 

A few moments passed without response, and he quickly grew impatient. Beginning to consider ground around back to the shoreline and pitching rocks at her windows to get her attention, but before he could put that thought into action, the door buzzed to life and clicked open inviting him inside. 

He jogged up the short flight of stairs, and found the inner door was open ready for him. He strode straight in, with the foul mood piggy backing in on him, but as soon as his eyes found the ocean view outside it fell away. The storm in his head breaking up and allowing a little sunlight in, calming the bitterness inside some, as he stood looking out, mesmerized by the shimmering waters. 

"Hey!" her voice called out to him from across the room. He turned his head to where the sound came from, and found she in the dining area, standing over an open laptop and some files that were spread over the table. 

"Hey Doc. Sorry I'm late." he said, taking off his purple lens aviators and popping them into the breast pocket of his dark grey sports coat, allowing him a better look at her. 

"No problem." she insisted, not wanting him to feel pressured in anyway. 

"How's things?" he asked her, his instinct to make small talk, as his eyes wandered up her figure. She was in the heels again, but this time she wore black, high-waisted pants that were loose around her long legs. She was clearly trying to be more conservative in her choice of outfit, but the cotton clung to her shapely ass like a second skin, making him stir inside. 

"Good. Thanks. I got rid of most of the boxes from last time." she said, closing the laptop and heading over to him.

His first thought was to look around to see if it was true, but he couldn't take his eyes off her, noting that she wore long sleeves again, in the form of a light purple blouse with a higher neckline than the first one he'd seen her in. It all suggested that she'd noticed the way he'd been shamelessly ogling her during their first appointment, and that she'd decided to cover up a little for their second meeting so as not to encourage his wandering eyes. 

Anyone else would have found her appearance perhaps a little prudish, but to him it was oddly appealing. It gave her a certain aura of power, and his mind began to run away with the idea of stripping her down, finding out what was truly underneath the professional disguise. 

His eyes followed her over to the seating area, where she took her chair and deliberately kept herself from looking at him, as she picked up a notepad and pen from the table and tried to relax. Doing her best not to pay any attention to the ways in which her mind tempted her focus to stray. 

He realized that she was avoiding making eye contact, and it amused him. She seemed a little nervous and it appealed greatly to his darker side. 

"Please, take a seat." she offered, gesturing to where he'd sat before on her couch. 

Not willing to make it easy for her, he hesitated in sitting, instead taking another long look at her. Seeing how long she'd let him stare before she looked up from her notes and made eye contact with him. Noting that her dark curls had seemingly been straightened out, and were tied neatly in a high pony tail, a pair of black rimmed glasses rested on top of her head. Something told him they weren't a fashion statement. 

She started writing something down and for some reason it irked him, breaking his concentration. He cut his eyes from her and glanced around the place, looking for somewhere to start a conversation about her before they delved into his crazy existence. 

She'd clearly been busy putting her mark on her new home. Her white shelving units were now full of books, CD's, DVD's and what looked like vinyl records. A few pops of colour from decorative vases and ornaments were dotted around, but none of them really took his interest. 

However, when he noticed a collection of large frames leaning against the half-wall that divided living space and kitchen, his curiosity piqued. He swaggered over and crouched down to take a better look at the first picture, and then the others behind it. Finding they were all framed concert and movie posters, he recognized a lot of names and smiled inwardly. 

"You like movies, huh?" he asked, thoughtfully stroking his stubbled chin. Wondering if someone like her could actually have decent taste in films. 

Cassidy glanced over at him, crouched by her coveted collection, and the sight of his eagerness sparked something inside her. An impulse that caused he to temporarily ignore her professional side. 

"No. I just liked the posters." she said, deadpan. 

"WHAT?" Michael exclaimed, turning his head to her fully with a look of utter disgust on his face. 

She laughed softly, it amused her to catch him off guard with her own sarcasm. "Of course, I love them." she confirmed. "I'm trying to find the right places to hang all of those." 

Him smirked to himself, liking how she seemed to already have a knack for keeping him on his toes. "They originals?" he enthused, she gave him a quick, almost shy glance and nodded; he beamed at her. "Wow. I love movies. Especially the classics." 

She agreed. "They don't make 'em like they used to." 

"We can still make a good movie in this country!" he enthused, settling the frames back into the stack and standing up straight again. "One in ten...maybe..." he joked, not convinced some of the studios out there had a clue about making quality entertainment. 

She was looking even more attractive to him now that he knew she had taste. Finding some kind of common ground outside of him spilling his problems to her, gave him an odd sense of positivity. He never connected with Dr. Friedlander like that, maybe a common interest with his new therapist could help his treatment someone. 

Dr. Nardovino chuckled softly, in agreement with him, trying hard not to engage into a topic that would eat up his therapy time. Fully committed to trying to do better than she had in their first session. Watching indirectly, as he swaggered over to the couch and sat down where she could no longer resist looking straight at him. 

He was wearing a black Henley underneath his dark sports coat. Charcoal slacks and smart black leather shoes, that pulled the look together perfectly - making him look every inch the hotshot Vinewood movie producer he was fast becoming.

All week she'd struggled not to think of him, or agonize over how she'd behaved during their first session. She knew all too well that she was dancing in a grey area of protocol to be sharing things about herself with him and letting her focus wane from him as her patient. She'd let him lead her off course and she had to do her best to stop that happening again. She had to prove to herself that she could handle someone like him. 

However, she also knew that in order for his therapy to be successful, they needed to create a rapport. His personality suggested he, more so than most, needed to feel like there was some kind of connection between them, to allow himself to open up. If that meant drifting into talking movies with him once in a while, or letting him pry into her world a little bit, that's what she'd have to do, but it was time to get down to business. 

"So tell me Michael, how are things?" 

He breathed in deeply, enjoying the sound of his name on her lips again for a moment, before attempting to answer. He'd forgotten about how grumpy he'd felt when he'd walked in, and the release he'd found in her presence didn't want to invite the black cloud back in, but he knew all his anger would come pouring out eventually anyway - it always did. 

"Up and down." 

"Okay, well, let's start with the ups." she offered. 

"They don't seem that great when you put me on the spot like that." he joked. She smiled softly, encouraging him to drop his guard and level with her. "The movie I'm producin' is goin' well, and they want me in on this new script that's comin' up too. Help with the realism....since it's about a bank robbery and all..." 

"That's great. You're transferring your skills." 

He gave a huff of laughter. "Yeah. I guess so." 

"What else?" 

He gave a sigh. He knew that saying being blessed with an extremely attractive therapist wasn't an appropriate thing to say, but he couldn't find anything else positive to give her. "Nothing really, Doc." 

"Thought you weren't calling me Doc, anymore?" she gave, almost playfully. 

"Well you never told me what name you prefer..."

She opened her mouth to speak but held back, silently scolding herself. She'd done it again, slipped off track. 

She pulled her eyes off his and adjusted her seated position a little instead of replying. Taking a moment to center herself again, before she let things spiral out of control. 

Feeling his eyes burning into her eagerly, she fidgeted. Bringing her glasses down from on top of her head, and slipping them on. She didn't currently need them on to help prevent the mild eyestrain she was given them for, but more to put some kind of buffer between her and him. A shield of sorts, to hide herself behind. 

She already felt the pull to reveal more of herself to him, but she hoped a thin layer of glass between her eyes and his would block his magnetism and keep her mind from skidding completely off the rails. 

Michael smiled internally, sensing she was always struggling with herself. Watching with almost predatory eyes as she crossed one leg over the other and briefly scanned over her notepad. He didn't need to be as observant as he was to deduce that she was only clutching at props to help her focus on his therapy, and not let him lead her a stray as he'd tried before. 

He felt a sly smile play at his lips as he looked her over. He liked the glasses, the black plastic frames seemed to accentuate her beauty, highlight the aura of intelligence she gave off, but he wasn't a fan of the notebook and pen she clutched. Wishing he had a better view of what she was going to write down about him. He worrying a little as he was reminded of how Friedlander had turned his sessions into a book for his own gain. 

Michael had always considered himself a good judge of character, and he didn't think she was the type, but he felt his guard start to harden unexpectedly upon an unwelcome recollection of his past experiences - once bitten, twice shy. 

Grateful for the few moments silence to gather herself, Dr. Nardovino quickly took command of the session and spoke up. "Have you had any _outbursts_ since we last met?" she began, getting straight down to brass tacks. 

"Nah, not really." he said hesitantly, unsure if his actions that week were outbursts or just his natural response to bullshit. 

She dipped her head slightly and looked over the top of her glasses at him, with knowing eyes. Michael swallowed hard, there was something ridiculously sexy about that kind of look. 

"You don't sound too sure about that." she suggested. 

Michael cooled the heat within him and shook his head, looking down to the table; _she was onto him_. 

"Well....this past weekend....there was this airplane going over town, dropping flyers for a rival theatre, so I had to call Trevor up for a favour..." he stopped short. "You know about Trevor?"

"A little." she nodded. 

"Well, you can probably guess that'll cost me somewhere down the line." he grumbled, he wasn't sure if he should elaborate on just what the two of them had done to the culprits when they caught up to them, so he moved on. "Then like two days later, some fuckin' assholes showed up trying to get the manager of the theatre kick up a protection vig...." 

Her eyebrows raised. "Wow. I see what you meant about owning a theatre not being as easy as you anticipated."

"Not in this town anyway." he said, disgruntled. Crime was rife around every corner in Los Santos, it wasn't easy to own any kind of business. "It's always somethin'." 

It was clear to her that he was being cautious in telling her the finer details of just what dirty deeds he'd been up to, so she took the opportunity to reconfirm the code of practice for her profession. Sensing he needed to be assured that she wasn't planning on putting him in a novel any time soon. 

"I already know a lot about the kind of things you've done in the past..." she said gently. "And I just want to clarify with you that everything in your file and anything new that you tell me is strictly confidential." 

Michael's eyes almost rolled. "Forgive me if I don't buy that, Doc. Not when the last asshole wrote a Goddamn book about me!" He held back his knowledge of the TV show Friedlander had been offered, for fear of somehow incriminating himself in his former therapist's demise. 

She nodded sympathetically. "I understand. He was wrong to do that." she agreed. "But anything you tell me remains between us. Unless you instruct or agree otherwise, or if...." she hesitated, the rules and regulations slamming to a stop inside her mouth. 

" _Or?_ " 

"Technically, if...." she hesitated, unsure of how to explain. "If I thought someone was going to get hurt, I'm supposed to go to the police...but..."

He'd heard it all before, but he wanted her to pledge her allegiance to him. " _But?_ "

"I hope I have no call to feel that way..." she gave. 

"What if you do?" he pushed. 

She knew he was playing her, but she did her best to steer the situation herself. "I can't go to the police without specific details and whatever you tell me will be treated in....a somewhat _fictional_ sense..." she offered, her eyes trying desperately to tell him what her lips were forbidden to. Hoping to make him realize he could fully trust her, with even his most heinous acts. 

He nodded. "Alright then." he understood what she was getting at perfectly but firmly reserved the right to keep the finer details from her, should he ever feel the need. 

A few moments of silence passed between them as they looked at each other. Sizing one another up anew, now that loyalty had been promised. 

He was still the devilishly charming, alpha male she'd found him to be a week earlier. Steely blue eyes that looked like they could recall thousands of wild tales. The dark dusting of stubble on the lower half of his face, giving him an unpolished edge which seemed to fit his personality perfectly. 

Suddenly she was aware of the warmth growing at her center and snapped her eyes off him. She had to focus. There was no room for letting her mind wander; she'd had seven days to get a grip of herself and she had exert some self-control. She had to prove to herself that she could handle him, and she could, she totally could! _Right?_ He might have been handsome, and charming but he was her patient and she had to focus on putting all her training into action. She couldn't allow him to snake his way inside her head, for both their sanity. 

"So, how have things been at home?" she asked outwardly confident, as she wrestled with herself inside. 

Michael relaxed back into the couch, his hands spread out on the soft fabric, as he blew some air out through his lips. "Shitty." he said bluntly. 

"How so?"

He stretched his neck, his shoulders suddenly feeling heavy; he was unsure where to even begin, so he took a few moments. Rubbing his hand over his chin as he was forced to look back and consider what had happened that morning to irritate him. "Just getting irritated by every little thing, I guess." he shrugged. "The sugar coating is wearing off quicker than I thought." he looked up to her for confirmation she was following, and she nodded encouraging him to continue. "Amanda said something as I left the house and...." he stopped, breathing in deeply. "It took all I had to walk out and not fuckin' throw somethin'." 

"It's good that you walked away from the confrontation." she gave with a soft smile but he didn't look convinced. "Can I ask what she said?" 

Michael cast his eyes back to the doctors, but he didn't quite know what to say. "It wasn't _what_ she said, it was _how she said it_."

"Okay." she nodded understandingly, recalling him mentioning the tone his wife used during their first session. 

"Always with the passive-aggressive bullshit." 

"Have things between you escalated in any way since we met last week?" 

Michael shrugged. "I dunno. I ain't sure if we've hit a plateau or this is the calm before the storm, you know?" 

She didn't say anything, but nodded again. Understanding where his relationship seemed to be sitting. "Are there any issues going on that you feel might cause things to spiral out of your control? _Triggers_?" 

He thought for a moment, there were hundreds of things that threatened to light the blue touch paper under his aggression, but something was sitting at the top of the pile. "Well...She keeps nagging me over doing this fuckin' cutesy couples dinner date bullshit, with a neighbour....and I can't imagine anything worse."

"Why?" 

"It's giving Amanda a stage." he told. "Only thing she loves more than spending my money, is putting me down in front of people....The way things are going between us right now, I know she won't be able to keep the Mrs Nice Guy act up outside of the house. She'll get a few drinks in her, and...." he trailed off, not caring to think about how things could go. 

"Hmmm." Dr. Nardovino took a moment to think of a possible solution, but nothing hurried forward. "Does she want to go?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "She loves that socialite shit." he groaned. "And this guy's wife does some pro-bono bullshit at the homeless shelter and Amanda has this fucked up idea to teach yoga to homeless people..." he looked at his therapist with an expression that asked her to agree with how crazy the idea. She of course held her tongue, not revealing her personal opinion, but the way her eyebrows raised told Michael they were on the same page. 

Despite her misgivings over his wife's ambition, Dr. Nardovino tried to put things into perspective for him. "It might be good for her to have an interest outside the home. She's more likely to worry less about you not being home, if she isn't either." 

"That's what I was thinking, but Jesus...it's a fuckin' ridiculous concept." 

"Perhaps only as ridiculous as choosing to risk your neck robbing banks." she teased impulsively. Quickly realizing the hazards of mocking him, after the words had fallen carelessly from her mouth. 

Michael's eyes latched onto hers, and she braced for an angry reaction. However, instead of an explosion, a smile spread across his face and he let out a light laugh. "Yeah, I guess, but at least I make big bucks doing that shit." 

She moved her head from side to side, as if she was weighing up the facts. "Fair point." she agreed and Michael smiled at her appreciatively. That wickedly charming smile that made his eyes dance and sent heat swelling through her. 

She broke eye contact again, and looked to her notepad for support and distract, but it caused her stomach to turn. Washing away the warmth pooling inside her as she began to panic over the next point she had to mention with him. 

She took a deep, but silent, breath and readied herself. "Last time you said that things were strained... _sexually_." she said a silent prayer that her cheeks weren't flushing. She had never been the type to blush, but something about him threaten to bring it out of her. 

"Fuckin' A right." he sighed. 

"No change?" she asked, hoping he'd take the lead. Feeling uncomfortable bringing up the topic with him again so soon, and concerned by the odd mix of sensations swirling through her. 

"Nah." he dismissed, unknowingly being difficult. 

If he was anyone else, she would have boldly asked her next question without batting an eyelid, but the way her mind wanted to wander with thoughts of him made it hard to remain neutral. She told herself to be professional and ignore everything else. To just blurt out the question and not look over at the images and thoughts in her mind that were trying desperately to tempt her focus away. 

"So how are you coping with that?" 

Michael smirked wickedly. "You askin' how often I'm jerking off to compensate?" he teased. 

"No." she defended, strongly. Sensing he was trying to test her embarrassment threshold. "I mean, have you been resisting the desire to find intimacy elsewhere?"

He chuckled at the way she was being so delicate with the subject, but his amusement subsided quickly and his eyes turned thoughtful. Considering for a moment all the things he'd imagined about her while looking at her photo on his phone. There was a temptation in him to tell her about how she came to him in a dream one night, only not how he'd seen her in the flesh. She'd been relaxed, loose and easy. Fun and seductive. All the things he could see were dormant within her during their sessions; things he would already love to have her reveal to him. 

"Michael?" she called, snapping him out of his train of thought. 

He sat up a little straighter and looked her in the eye. "I haven't cheated." he said, his tone clearly suggesting there was a _'yet'_ attached to the end of his statement. "I'm not gonna lie though." he told. "I've had plenty of thoughts." 

"Thoughts are fine, it's acting on them that isn't." 

"Yeah. Thinkin' ain't cheatin'." he told her, in a slightly cryptic tone. Like he wanted to reveal something, but she didn't take the bait he was putting down. She was too relieved to have got the awkward question out of the way fairly painlessly, to delve head first into the darkest corners of his mind right there and then. 

She quickly moved on, for her own sake, looking to her notebook for guidance, and drawing a star besides her notes to remind her to poke around on the subject of sex a little more, some other time. Perhaps when the unusually charged energy between them had died down, which she hoped would happen soon, to allow her to become a more effective therapist. 

"And how are things with your kids?" 

He made a low growl, part in annoyance at the mere mention of them, but also in disappointment that she'd shut down the sex talk down before he flew off too far with tempting her away from her professional duties. 

"No change. Same shit." he said, but recalled something "...Actually got Jimmy to leave the house and go watch a movie with me on Sunday." 

"That's good." she half smiled, sensing there was more. 

"It would have been, if we hadn't got into a fight over it."

"How come?"

He gave a dismissive 'ach' and waved his hand. "The kid don't understand movies. He says he wants to come to the studio and see what he can learn, but if it ain't tits and ass, and firin' guns, killin' a bunch of people, it's bullshit to him."

She cocked her eyebrow at him, having not yet touched on his time running a prostituting ring but being fully aware of the other ways he once made money. "This coming from the man who founded a successful criminal career on some of those elements?" she said, again without thinking. Her true combative nature seeping through the cracks in her tainted professional mask. 

Michael cut his eyes to her, narrowing them slightly but he couldn't find any anger in him. Ordinarily he would have ripped someone's head off for questioning him in such a way, but something about her tone wasn't quite enough to make him snap. 

"I thought you didn't judge?" he asked darkly. 

"I'm not judging." she said confidently. "I'm stating facts."

He looked at her intensely, searching for a spark of anger, but there was none to be found within him. Truth was, he kind of enjoyed how she pulled him up on his own bullshit. Amanda always tried to but her ways were too harsh, too insulting and irritating to him. Her criticism always seemed to be a prompt for unravelling bigger issues between them. However, his protégé Franklin had a knack for making him check himself, and a way of making him want to right the wrongs he called him out on. Now it seemed that Dr. Nardovino had that same ability, a certain _finesse_ that made him look in on himself and realize his mistakes. 

"I'll give you that one." he smirked, pointing his finger at her. 

She smiled softly, relieved he'd let her level with him without an outburst, but she quickly moved on, not wanting to risk rocking the boat any further. "It could be good for the both of you to share an interest like that. Putting Jimmy to work at the studio could give you some more common ground." 

Michael scoffed. "He thinks it's all hot broads and craft services." he dismissed. "He's too entitled to take it on the level. He'd be struttin' around the place, throwin' his weight about because he's the producers son." he guessed, not realizing how guilty he was of having a similar attitude himself sometimes. "Nah. I don't need that crap. I go to the studio to get away from the bullshit." 

Dr. Nardovino sighed quietly, despite understanding where he was coming from. It was beginning to seem that Dr. Friedlander was right - Michael wasn't willing to even help himself when solutions were offered. 

"Are things still stressful at the studio, in general?" she probed. Knowing plenty about his home life, but not yet being privy to much in regard to his venture down a new career path. 

Michael gave a facial shrug. "No better or worse really. Varies day to day. I guess I'm having fun, you know...correcting things, giving some input." 

"Reminiscing about the past?" she suggested. 

Michael gave a soft huff of laughter. "Yeah, that too." he smiled slightly, but a cloud passed over his eyes. "But there's always some kinda trouble going on. Always something going wrong, someone bitchin' about shit, actors making problems outta nothin'. Wanting more pay than they're worth. You know." It wasn't the first time he'd experienced that type of issue, although he hoped this time it would be resolved without a fist fight and some dangerous helicopter piloting. 

"Do you think that could all lead you to a relapse in controlling your anger?" the doctor asked. 

"No doubt." he nodded. "But you know, I'm trying to be diplomatic. Talk first, throw punches later." 

She gave a faint chuckle at the way he said it, finding that cockiness that layered itself over his humour was unintentionally charming. "That's good." she encouraged, keen to move onto her next point about where his stood with his more clandestine career path, when he internal alarm buzzed, encouraging her to look up at the clock for the time. 

They hadn't delved as deep as she'd hoped, and many of the topics she wanted to address hadn't been touched upon but due to him being late. Time had run out much quicker than she realized; she had to start wrapping up, or risk losing control of the situation. 

"Have you tried to follow my suggestions from last time? Filtering things out before getting allowing yourself to get angry?" she reminded. 

Michael laughed defiantly. "I don't _allow myself_ to get angry, Doc. It just happens."

"But we're trying to help you learn to control it. You have the ultimate power over how you feel about things. It _is_ possible for you to choose not to give in to your rage." she suggested and Michael's attitude turned flippant, he'd heard it all before. "You're no longer taking the medication Dr. Friedlander prescribed you, is that correct?"

"Yeah. He said something about the dosage being wrong, but Amanda reckons it wasn't workin' anyway because I was drinkin'...and I ain't gonna quit drinkin'." he reminded her. 

She nodded understandingly; he was horribly stubborn, and that fact made her sympathetic to his wife's struggle. "I know it sounds like a cliché, but as soon as something angers you, counting to ten can really help you get some clarity." 

Michael laughed cynically. "Yeah, I try to do that. I usually just end up counting ten reasons why I should get more angry about whatever's pissin' me off."

She swallowed a sigh. Unsure if he was being intentionally difficult, or if it was just his nature to reject anything that didn't work the very first time he'd tried it. "If you keep practising it, and focus your breathing and quieting your mind, it _can_ and _will_ help, but you have to want to let it." she assured. 

Michael wasn't buying it, but he didn't want to get into an argument over it. He knew she was just trying to do her job. "Sounds like you're wrapping up, Doc. We outta time?" he was twenty minutes late, but he'd hoped to extend his session somehow. 

Disappointed in herself for being so transparent, she nodded softly. "We haven't gone too deep this session, if we had more tim-" he cut her off. 

"I got more time." he told her, his eyes slightly hooded, almost lusty looking. 

She swallowed hard, she should have known she'd put her foot in it by encouraging that kind of reaction from him. He had money to burn, and would no doubt willingly throw it at her if it meant more time to flirt and poke at her with his provocative games. 

She gave a soft, almost shy smile. "I'm sure you have, but I have to see another patient." she lied. Not willing to let him get the upper hand over her again. 

Michael felt deflated, but he understood. "Alright." he relented. 

"This will be our last session here too." she announced without warning, puncturing Michael's enthusiasm further and the disappointment spread clearly across his face. "I've secured some office space in south Pillbox Hill. I start working out of it on Monday....I'll email you the address." 

"Oh..." Michael said lowly, watching as she took off her glasses and put them along with her notepad and pen on the table, ready to get up. "I gotta say that sucks. You're not going to be able to get that view in Pillbox Hill." he said, gesturing to the ocean just outside. 

Dr. Nardovino dipped her head thoughtfully. "Yeah, I know. But working from home just isn't practical, _or safe._ " she said adamantly and stood up. 

"Why?" Michael asked, looking up at her with mock concern. " _Do you let bad guys in?_ "

Cassidy looked down at him and laughed softly. "Some would say." 

A sassy smirk peeled across Michael's face, holding her eyes for one beat, then two, and three. 

She looked away first, dipping her head again, and quickly moving towards the door, forcing him to relent. Standing up from the sofa and following after her, enjoying the faint scent of her perfume that trailed behind her. 

"Thanks, Doc." he said redundantly as he met her at the open door. 

"It's Cass by the way...." she let out, without thinking, silently reprimanding herself again. 

"Huh?"

She almost stuttered, but stopped herself. She shouldn't have said anything, but the damage was done, back peddling now would just cause awkwardness. "The name I prefer." she reminded. "Cassie makes me sound like a Sheepdog." 

Michael laughed deeply, amused to see a hint of her not taking herself too seriously. His eyes ran over her pretty face again and his laugh faded into a gentle smile. He knew it was wrong to like someone he was _paying_ to spend time with him. It was especially wrong to be considering her in the ways he was after having promised his wife he'd be a good boy, but there was something so appealing about her. She challenged him, in more ways than one, and made him laugh too. That was something he had done very little of in recent times. 

Another moment passed between them, each looking into the other's blue eyes. Him wishing he had more time with her, while she fought to control the side of herself that she masked with professionalism. She had to get him to leave, she couldn't give in and start allowing him to manipulate how much time they spent together. 

"Next Thursday then?" he suggested, sensing her resolve for kicking him out was weakening, which in turn tempted him to take advantage of her destabilized state. _However_ , the risk of bumping into another patient stopped him running with the lead she was unwittingly giving him. 

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll email you that address." 

He was severely disappointed that he wouldn't see the beautiful view again, but he nodded acceptingly. "Alright. See ya Thursday, _Doctor Cass_." he teased. 

She couldn't fight herself, and broke out into a coy smile. "Goodbye Michael." she said softly, and he smiled back at her. His eyes glowing with flirtation and his mind dark with desire. 

Every part of him wanted to stay put, chase after the spark he felt between them, to push the dynamic and see where it went, but practicing his self control, he forced his feet to move him through the door. Then just like that, he was gone. 

Dr. Nardovino closed the door and threw the bolt. Mentally slapping herself for failing in her duties as his therapist, speaking her own mind too much and falling victim to his charms _yet again_. She thought she was stronger than that, able to stand firm in the face of adversity but apparently there was no real defence against the pull of Michael De Santa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Please let me know if you're still enjoying the story and if you would like to see what else I have in store.


	6. The Big City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading and leaving me some kudos. Extra special thanks to those of you who took the time to leave me a comment on the last chapters, you're support and enthusiasm for this story means so much to me. 
> 
> This a little different from the others so far, and focuses more on Dr. Nardovino, but since Michael got a chapter of his own last update, I felt she needed one too. Don't worry though, he does make an appearance and he will be back in full force in the next chapter.

Cassidy's life seemed to be a never ending cycle of cardboard boxes and unpacking since moving to San Andreas. It had taken a long but she'd finally freed her home of them, only to find herself in her new office, bombarded by dozens of things that needed to be unpacked and placed in her new professional space. 

She was five floors above the insanity of Los Santos, in a building that housed two small department store outlets at street level, and a number of expensive executive condos on the upper floors. The level she was on had been cleverly divided into four individual sections for consulting therapists and other specialists. The layout afforded her a spacious office, sleek bathroom and a cosy waiting area just outside, providing her the perfect base for business operations.

Fortunately there were also reception services on each floor, which would help significantly in handling the flow of her clients. Some of whom had a terrible habit of arriving early for their sessions, and others who struggled with being limited to only an hour.

To her relief she had found her new office to be bright and airy. Making the most of the light that came in through the square windows, with beige walls and light hardwood floors. A wheat coloured couch and chairs, with a tables, a desk and shelving units that almost perfectly matched the flooring. 

It was a calming, unimposing, space for her clients. She felt it was perhaps a little impersonal but often clients needed to feel like they had a blank page to fill, and that was what she gave them with the openness of the room. 

As soon as she had stepped foot in her new space, she looked to the windows and her mind went straight to Michael. He had been right about the lack of view in Pillbox Hill. All she could see from her south facing windows was a construction site for a new business tower across the street. The imposing structure made her view seem somewhat claustrophobic, and she opted to put up some cream blinds that covered the windows to help hide the industrial sights outside. Creating a vague feeling of serenity against the chaotic industrial world outside. 

She hoped that being in a separate environment, somewhere that surrounded her with constant reminders of her professionalism, would mean that she'd struggle less in maintaining a practical demeanour around Michael. Without the comfortable surroundings of her home, that reminded her of who she really was, maybe she'd find it easier to stop her guard slipping, and prevent him from leading her mind astray. Hoping she could somehow keep her most challenging client from seeing what was underneath her carefully constructed, and well trained persona. 

Moving base had to be a good thing, especially for the sake of her professionalism and creating a decent work/life balance. Keen to get things up and running, she'd spent all weekend setting the place up. 

Even before seeing her first client but she knew that she'd spend most of her days there killing the time between appointments. Wasting time on the internet or re-reading the books she'd studied over the years, trying to find a way to distract herself from focusing on the disconcerting thoughts she was having about Michael, that were becoming more and more frequent. 

Being trapped in the city meant that rather than spending her time between patients pottering around her house, or going for a quick swim in the ocean on a doorstep, she would find herself twiddling her thumbs. Potentially allowing her mind more time to wander to places she really didn't want it to go. She had to remain professional, even in her private time. Prove to herself that she could handle the situation with him and not fall victim to his destructive charms. 

The office was the right thing, it had to be! She couldn't deny that the location was perfect for treating her clients from all over Los Santos - with the Harper Institute of Clinical Psychology only a couple of blocks away, a car park right next door and a train station opposite - but she didn't truly feel comfortable locked away in the clinical space. 

She felt like she'd become too standard, that she risked becoming just like her many jaded peers in doing so, but her practical mind told her it was for the best. It was a place for her to focus her mind on the job, and to force her inner self into submission during the therapy sessions she gave. 

She hoped that perhaps the new location would also subconsciously remind Michael that their relationship was purely professional, which in turn would surely help her to keep focused only on his treatment. The beige walls would hopefully act as a corral of sorts, keeping her mind on the right tracks and well out of the gutter. 

The move to the new office was largely positive on paper, although it had a troubling amount of hidden downsides too. She predicted she'd wind up spending her lunch break getting overpriced synthetic sandwiches from the Coffee Bean outlet on the ground floor, rather than eating hot homemade food from the diner Mom's Pies a couple of doors down from her house. Bumping shoulders with all the tense suits from the surrounding corporate world, who were allowing themselves twenty minutes break to bolt down a cup of coffee and a sandwich. Rather than finding herself pulled into a conversation with one of her surfer or oddball bohemian neighbours. 

The differences between the two locations couldn't have been more night and day, but she told herself she'd appreciate her home space much more for being stuck in the city. She needed her own sanctuary, somewhere that protected her from the stresses of her career. Somewhere she could leave her troubles outside of, and allow herself to switch off her mind when she was off the clock. She needed a private space, somewhere her clients couldn't infiltrate. Somewhere she wasn't forced to cope with the way expensive cologne lingered in the air for hours after a session. 

Sharing a building also forced her into making small talk with the other clinicians on the floor, only to discover they were uptight, judgemental types that she disliked intensely. She assumed they had been worn-out over their years of experience, and she had no doubt that once upon a time they'd been just like her - wide eyed, newly qualified therapists who wanted to be "different". Only to find themselves whittled down into the typical shrink mould by the pressures and the struggles of the job. She'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't burn out like most of her peers did, that she'd keep a positive attitude and have faith that her patients could be helped. Of course, she hadn't banked on someone like Michael De Santa gracing her appointment book. 

Someone who defied most explanations and had tried almost every treatment option known to man. A person who managed to push her most deeply buried buttons. Someone who held potential to threaten so many aspects of her life, both professional and personal. A man who troubled her as much as he intrigued her. 

Despite her concerns, there was no way in hell she would palm him off to another therapist. She had prayed for a challenge to keep her busy when she moved to Los Santos, but she hadn't be prepared for the form that challenge would come in. Or just how much he would infect so many of her thoughts beyond their sixty minutes of session time. 

As she folded up the last empty cardboard box and stored it away in the in-built closet in her office, she took a step back and looked around half-heartedly. It would take a lot of getting used to the place, but it was the way things had to be. 

"It's for the best." she told herself out loud, hoping she'd believe it a little more if she said the words out loud.

Unexpectedly, there was a knock at the door and she called out to invite whoever was outside - in. One of her floor's receptionists, a petite blonde woman, barely out of high school, poked her head around the door to check the room was free, before walking in. 

To Cassidy's surprise, she was holding a large bunch of vividly coloured flowers, wrapped up in sparkly cellophane with a pretty blue bow. "These came for you." she announced. 

"From who?" Cassidy asked, with a heavy frown. She didn't really know anyone in Los Santos and no one other than her patients and the people on her floor knew about her change of location. 

"Didn't read the card." the receptionist shrugged, passing the flowers and small unopened envelope to her as Cassidy thanked her. 

"Your first patient is waiting outside." the blonde woman announced and slipped away as quickly as she'd entered. 

Feeling a little troubled by the mysterious offering, Cassidy quickly took the flowers over to her desk and put them down. Checking the clock to see she safely had a few minutes before her patients hour began, before she turned over the white envelope and hurriedly opened it. 

Pulling out the card to find it read:

_A little something to improve the view in your new office - M_

The oddest sensation flushed through her, making her limbs feel light and tingly. Her head setting off racing with a million different statements and questions that suddenly came to her.

"Shit!" she hissed to herself. Closing her eyes and running her free hand through her hair as she mentally grabbed for an anchor to cling to. 

It was terribly inappropriate for him to do such a thing, she knew she shouldn't accept gifts from patients, but the gesture was making her heart prance around in her chest like a peacock. 

He was crossing a line, and so was she for letting the gift affect her so much, but she couldn't find it in her to be angry - she was too flattered. She knew it must have meant that he'd been thinking about her outside of their sessions, and that in itself was a dangerous thing, but in that moment in didn't matter. His gesture had made her feel better than she'd felt in a long while, and even though she knew she should't - she smiled. 

She thought for a moment about sending a quick email to thank him, but considered how that might affect his life. If his wife was checking his phone, he could land in very hot water. Allowing there to be a trail of evidence of her taking gifts from him could potentially be a disaster waiting to happen for her too, somewhere down the line. Even if those pitfalls were avoided, she'd only spend hours agonizing over what exactly to say. 

Instead, she resolved to let her head clear, and thank him when she saw him in person that Thursday. She would have to tell him it wasn't appropriate for him to do such a thing too of course, but how she was going to do that, she had no idea. Something told her that he knew _perfectly well_ that it wasn't fitting to do such things, and that he just didn't care. 

****

=========================

The four days passed with a speed that barely rivalled that of a dead snail. Cassidy saw almost a patients in the time and tried her best to focus on them, _and them alone_ , but she found her mind so often straying to Michael.

She couldn't help but wonder what trouble he was getting himself into and how she was going to handle seeing him again. What she was going to do about pulling him up on sending her flowers, and trying to clearly establish some professional boundaries in her new therapy space. 

She noticed she was becoming more and more restless as his appointment drew closer, fretting about how best to take control of the session, while fighting off lurid thoughts. However, half an hour before he was due to arrive, her phone began ringing. 

She hurried around to her desk and sat down before picking up the receiver. "Dr. Nardovino speaking." she said politely, with no idea who to expect on the other end. 

"Hey Doc!" Michael's gravelly voice called back over the wire. 

Her body's reaction instantly told her who it was, but still she asked. "Michael?"

"Yeah." he confirmed. "Listen, I'm not going to be able to make it in..." by the sounds of the background noise he was driving, _fast_. 

She felt a pit open up in her stomach, but instantly dismissed it as disappointment. "That's okay. Thanks for letting me know." she knew that was an unusual thing for him to do in itself. "Is everything all right?" 

Michael gave a frustrated huffing sigh, hesitating for a moment. "I just gotta handle some shit." 

"I understand." she said softly, horribly curious about what was going on. She then caught sight of the flowers sitting on a chest of draws near the window, a reminder of his actions that had been bugging her for days. Causing her to rehearse seeing him again over and over again, imagining a million different outcomes to their session. "Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful." she said. "I was going to email you to say thanks, but...."

She didn't need to elaborate, Michael already knew where her head was at. He had wanted to email her himself, to check she'd got them, but figured he'd be pushing his luck. "You're welcome. How's the new office?" 

She tried not to sigh. "Dull." 

Michael laughed. "Can I say - _I told you so_?" 

Cassidy chuckled. "I guess I'll have to give you this one." 

"Yeah, you will." Michael chuckled; wishing for more time but he had to end the call. "I'll see you next week, Doc." 

"Okay." she agreed. "Be good." she cringed at how stupid that sounded, and bitterly mouthed a silent _'fuck'_ to the empty room. 

There was a beat of silence, and she wondered if Michael was smiling or cringing too. "I'll do my best." with that he was gone. 

She put the phone back on its cradle and let out a heavy sigh. She hadn't even had a chance to bring him up on the correct etiquette between doctors and patient. She'd practiced what to say so many times in the past days, but the instant she'd heard his voice, it was all forgotten. She knew that was a very bad sign. 

However, she told herself that a week without seeing him wouldn't be such a terrible thing. Maybe she'd get over the stupid school-girl-with-a-crush feelings she was having whenever his name popped up in her head. Maybe she'd get a chance to recharge her professionalism and enter into a proper working relationship with him at the start of their next session. 

A little breathing space was potentially a blessing in disguise. She needed to kill off the feelings and thoughts she was having before they really took root and spread like Japanese Knotweed. She knew the things that preoccupied her mind would only lead to big trouble somewhere down the line. It was best to put some space between them, allow her defences to strengthen.

Maybe another seven days without seeing him, or feeling his magnetism, would let her get her head clear, focus on helping him beat his demons rather than being drawn to the devil he was. Or maybe the time apart would just make things a whole hell of a lot worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I kinda jipped you out of a big dose of Michael, but I hope you enjoyed the update anyway. He'll be back in full force next chapter, if you guys want it, please let me know! Thanks for reading!


	7. Location, Location, Location.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a big heartfelt thanks goes out to all you guys who take the time to show support for this fic. It means a hell of a lot to me to know you're enjoying my work. 
> 
> Again, this was originally one big long chapter, but I figured since it gets pretty heavy in the middle, it'd be easier to digest chopped it into two. Chapter eight is actually my favourite that I've written so far. I wanted to try and get away from Michael just bitching about life and dig a little deeper into his inner workings. So, I hope you all enjoy it the chapters! Happy reading! :o)

With so many life stresses and criminal temptations resurging, and no socially acceptable outlet for his frustrations, Michael found his resolve to be a better man was being tested to the extreme. 

Fourteen days without a way to release the pressure valve had caused aggravations to pop up at every turn, pushed him more and more towards violent impulses. Strong influences that harkened back to the life he thought he'd left behind pulled him every which way, playing to the darker side of his psyche which hungered to be indulged. Even his legitimate work was not exempt from causing him concern. Being tasked with solving problems with shady solutions and finding his libido threatened to betray him more each day, as the eager young actresses and interns paraded around him at the studio. Performing for his hungry eyes and playing to his ego, tempting him to destroy his attempt at fidelity. 

In the midst of it all, the planning of a new score and the anticipated thrill of life threatening danger encouraged his mind to drift dangerously far from the legitimacy of his work at Richard's Majestic. Making him confused and frustrated; unable to pin down what he really wanted from the two demanding sides of his life. 

On top of all his career troubles, sat the familiar stresses of life with his crazy family. Almost daily fights with his wife, constant struggles to encourage his son to better himself and permanent concerns for his daughter's wellbeing, joined forces with everything else to make certain that he was drinking more than he should, and sleeping less than he needed. 

In the past days he had even found it difficult to switch off from his problems long enough to allow his mind to run free in fantasy land, to where thoughts of his new therapist waited for him. Even the little bit of harmless escapism in looking at Dr. Nardovino's Life Invader picture didn't seem to be able to cut through the pressures in his head. 

It felt far longer than just two weeks had passed since he'd last seen her, and one of the only things that kept him moving forward against the swelling tides around him, was the promise of some one-to-one interaction with her again. Hoping that not only would she let him offload and blurt out every little annoyance that plagued him, but also craving fresh interaction to refuel the fire of fantasy within him. Fantasy which offered a safe place to escape to; a fantasy that was far safer for his liver than the amount of alcohol he needed to consume to switch off. 

When Thursday finally rolled around, Michael was more eager than ever to get to his shrink. Hoping that somehow she'd help him get out from under the toxic cloud that seemed to be following him around. He needed to let off some steam, in the hopes that it would lighten the load on his shoulders that was trying so hard to push him down into the dirt. 

He set off from his house in plenty of time for his session, not wanting to miss a moment of the venting time he was paying for. Pointing his car instinctively in the direction of the Great Ocean Highway and navigated the familiar Los Santos traffic absentmindedly. 

Blindly reaching the Great Ocean Highway intersection before he realized something wasn't right and recalled that Dr. Nardovino had stopped working out of her beachside home.. Remembering that she had moved operations to her new base in the city pulled the wind completely out of his sails. 

The idea of being trapped in a clinical office with nothing but a drab, claustrophobic cityscape to look out didn't appeal to him at all. He'd been subconsciously hoping for some time by the water, a little sea air in his lungs; the temptation to ditch therapy and keep on driving crossed his mind, but the ocean could wait. He needed to talk. 

Reluctantly he turned the car around in the parking lot of the Pipeline Inn, and retraced part of his path before taking off in the direction of downtown. He found his frustrations growing as the flow of of traffic thickened more and more the closer he got to Alta Street in Pillbox Hill. Horns honking and carelessly drivers cutting lanes seemed to be doing all they could to make him snap, but somehow he managed to hold it together long enough to find her new address. 

Just as her email had said, he found a large parking lot next to the building she'd relocated to, and had no problem finding a place to ditch his car. He considered stopping for a cigarette to settle the static inside him before going up to find her new office, but accidentally driving in the wrong direction had cut into his lead time. He didn't want to be late again, not when he had so much to get off his chest. 

He stalked up to the tower-like building. Keeping his eyes sharp, recalling her instructions to look for the door with "3 Alta Street" written above it in big silver letters. He hadn't even seen in the place yet, but he'd already decided it was awful and he hated it. 

He had been feeling negative about their forthcoming first session in her new office, ever since she'd warned of the change. Not because he wasn't looking forward to her company of course; he couldn't wait to run his mouth and toy with her again, but because the new location made therapy seem too _real._

In her house, it was just like he was chatting to a friend. Even though she did her best to keep things looking professional, he felt like he could relax and forget that he was actually paying someone to listen to him, because no one else cared to. Their sessions hadn't truly felt or _looked_ like therapy, but seemed to be more a relaxed social kind of exchange. 

Best of all, at her home, his eyes were able to focus out on the calming ocean whenever his mind got too hectic, or she forced him to face a truth he didn't care for. Transferring into some clinical city office would surely only stand to dissolve the sense of comfort he got from the informal setting. He was all but convinced the change of space, and the expanse of time between their sessions was bound to have an effect on the dynamic that had developed between them. 

Starting to contemplate how things would be different, put him on edge more than he'd realized, and he then understood why he'd willingly forgotten about the change of venue. He told himself to get over it, that an office in the city wasn't the worst thing that could happen. 

She was still going to be the same person, with that knack she had of making him open up and lay all his problems out. Somehow just talking to her helped him reorder his problems, as if voicing his issues somehow reordered them, making them easier to carry before he took them all back on board again, so that he left their session feeling lighter. Making him feel as if things weren't as bad as they had seemed when he'd walked in. 

He needed that feeling again; he needed her concerned ears and silent support. Part of him had been craving interaction with her in the past days. Especially as he knew after an hour with her, he'd at least have some fresh images to entertain himself with while he struggled to find sleep that night. 

He hurried himself along and up the concrete steps to the doors into the building. Steering himself around the sporadic clusters of coffee addicted suits loitering outside, drawn by the conveniently placed Coffee Bean, before cutting through the large chrome doors into a cool marble floored lobby. Completely empty, save for some decorative plants and two elevator doors on the far wall. 

He walked straight up to the doors and hit the call button, stretching out his neck agitatedly as he waited for the car doors to open. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable and apprehensive feelings that threatened to settle over him. Familiar emotions from vague memories comparing the moment at hand to how he'd felt during past court hearing; or the agitated wait for the proctologist to call him in for an examination. Or worse, all the hours spent waiting around in a mid-west FIB building all those years ago, while Dave Norton discussed his future in witness protection with his peers. 

As he stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the fourth floor, he asked himself why he was feeling so uneasy. He liked Dr. Nardovino, she was easy to talk to, and plenty nice to look at. While she did have potential for pushing his buttons on occasion, he had no legitimate reason to feel uncomfortable about their session, or the fact that therapy was taking on a more authentic appearance. 

He knew from experience that talking with her would help put everything into perspective. As long as he could convince himself to hang in there and ignore the thought in his head that said fourteen days had been too long. Not just for his mental health, but also for that of his dynamic relationship that had blossomed with the good doctor. 

The elevator came to a soft stop and the doors opened up to welcome him in to a bright and modern reception area, which had four short corridors leading off like the points of a compass. He walked up to the desk and announced his arrival to the cute redhead behind the desk, who politely instructed him to take one of the corridors to his right. 

He thanked her with a nod, and made his way across the foyer and down a short hallway to where a small, dim, windowless waiting area was located. There were four individual soft chairs, of chocolate coloured suede, flanking both sides of the room, accompanied by a couple of magazine laden dark wood tables. Soft lighting illuminated the room from the bronzed sconces on the walls, bringing everything together to make the place look more like a cigar club than a psychologists waiting room. 

Eager for the session to start, he reached into the pocket of his black chinos and pulled out his phone, to check the time - by some miracle, he was six minutes early. 

He turned his head to focus on the white office door, knowing that she was undoubtedly behind it. Silently hoping that she'd sense his presence outside and invite him in to get down to business before time, but starring at the door just didn't seem to make it open. And as the minutes ticked away, the louder his apprehensive mind became.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another chapter waiting....


	8. Nightmares and Cityscapes

** _**Second Chapter In Two Part Update -- if you missed Chapter Seven, please go back!**_ **

Locked inside her new office, Dr Cassidy Nardovino was feeling _beyond_ anxious. Standing by the window looking down on the street, acutely aware of the fact _he_ was just moments away from being in the same building as her, if he wasn't already. 

She'd tried her absolute best to not to focus too much on him between their sessions, but it hadn't been easy. She'd found herself trying desperately to distract from the thoughts she knew she shouldn't be having, by spending time re-reading books on practices and techniques. Punishing herself with deep study, hoping that she'd find something she could implement into helping her keep herself guarded and focused around him. She had been tempted to go to a colleague for support, someone to discuss her own issues with, but she decided against it. That was a last resort; an avenue she didn't want to go down until she had no other choice. She could handle things on her own, her heart and her head were under control. 

The expanse of time since last seeing him had given her a good chance to put herself back into neutral. To try and order the odd mix of emotions that he stirred within her, enabling her to enter the correct headspace for dealing with a client. 

She felt sure she'd found a way to separate the two sides of her personality and not allow him to coax out the darker side of herself. She'd all but convinced herself that she had the ability to deal with him as easily and confidently as she did with the other names in her appointment book. Yet there was still an ever present niggling doubt that said she hadn't done enough. A thought that told her one minute with him would undo her defences, warning that all her efforts to regain full control of herself were for naught. 

Of course, she wasn't naive enough to believe there could ever be anything more than a working relationship between them; they were only client and therapist - that was it. She kept reminding herself of the facts every time her mind tried to stray from the course she'd put it on. 

However, despite her best efforts she still found that her mind consistently drifted to personal thoughts of him. Worries about what dangers he was putting himself into; concerned with where he was spending his time. Hoping that he was finding a decent way to cope with everything that troubled him.. Fearing he was in a jail cell, _or worse_. 

She tried hard to convinced herself that her frequent, and sometimes overwhelming thoughts of him, were nothing more than professional concern for the wellbeing of one of her patients. She sometimes found her mind turning to worries about Olivia too; the young woman with a horrible habit of getting drunk every evening and waking up in a strange man's bed every morning. She worried about Michael the same as she had concerns about Joshua, the teenager who struggled with his sexuality and vicious bullying; or Alice the middle aged housewife who found herself unable to resist catfishing people through Life Invader.

Cassidy tried to believe that she treated all her patients fairly, _equally_. Yet deep down she knew that was not the case with Michael. None of her patients had ever got under her skin the way he did. None of the others kept her awake through the night or had her wondering so much about them and the lives they lead. 

She didn't picture any of them in the scenarios like the ones about him that crept into her head at night ,when she was relaxed and easily corrupted by her innermost desires. She didn't find herself considering whether her other patients would be gentle and tender in bed, rushed and sloppy, rough and dominating, or maybe just a strange mix of them all. 

She didn't get the same uneasy feeling when she thought of her other patients asleep in the same bed as their spouses, or indulging in certain types of _activities_. Yet she'd experienced it all, and more, in regards to Michael, and to say it unnerved her was an understatement. 

She'd never been one to let a man get in her head the way he had, but it seemed the more she tried to fight it, the deeper he seemed to root himself in her mind. She had, however, managed to convince herself that it was nothing to panic over. That it was just another challenge, something she needed to work through and deal with, in order to better herself as a therapist and a person. 

She had to put it all down to experience; treat it all as a training exercise of sorts. It would be good practice for self control, knowing that she couldn't let what was going on internally show in her body language and behaviour anymore. She had to play it straight from there on out, for both their sakes. 

Slotting the final piece of her professional mask into place, she smoothed out her black pants, and walked confidently over to her door. Taking a deep, calming breath and telling herself he was nothing she couldn't handle. He was just someone who needed a shoulder, someone she had to treat ethically, as she'd been trained to do. Nothing more. It couldn't be. _Ever!_

"He's just another patient." she whispered to herself. "He just needs your help. Lock it down. Remember he's married." 

She couldn't afford to allow herself to think of him in any other way than the one she was paid to. No more enjoying the smell of his cologne, or letting herself be stirred by how sexy his anger made him look. No more letting her eyes fixate on his hands, and his mouth. No more wondering how the stubble around his jaw would feel against her skin. 

Nope! _No more of that!_ She was done! 

She had to clarify some boundaries, starting with sending her gifts. She had to make it as clear to him as it now was to her that they were purely patient and therapist. From there on out, she was strictly professional. If only for her own sanity and to prevent herself ruining everything she'd worked so hard to become over recent years. 

She set about hog tying the foolish girl inside her who got all tingly and silly whenever he looked at her in a certain way, and forced every ounce of courage she could muster to stand up and be counted before opening the door and bolding stepping out. 

Her eyes instantly found him in the small waiting area; he was sitting back in one of the leather chairs absentmindedly messing with his phone. He must have heard the door click open as he looked up almost instantly, his eyes meeting hers for the first time in two weeks, exchanging soft welcoming smiles. The kind that sent an uncontrollable warm shiver racing through her. 

_Was he that handsome last time she saw him?_

"Hey!" she greeted warmly, forcing a confident smile into place, while internally chasing away the sparkly feelings that still attempted to flutter around inside her again. "You wanna come in?" she offered, waiting a moment for him to get up, before turning back into her office and quickly moving across the room to take her seat. 

She was back in touch with her professionalism. _She was._ She absolutely was! There was no way him and his handsome face and charisma were going to shake her. The funny feelings she was having were just nerves, _surely_. 

Michael walked in and closed the door behind him, taking a good long look at the new office. He could still smell the sour scent of the fresh paint that created a beige nightmare and he groaned to himself. It was just as he'd feared - bright and airy, blank and void of all personality. 

The room was exactly what he'd imagined a shrinks office to be when he taken up therapy years earlier. He hadn't been too keen on the set up of Dr. Friedlander's home office, but at least he could take a walk along the beach right after being probed, and forced to reveal the inner most secrets in his head, and the depths of his wallet. 

"They have a sale on beige paint or somethin'?" he mocked as he took it all in.

Dr. Nardovino rolled her eyes, she knew he'd have something sarcastic to say about the new office. "I didn't pick it." she defended. "It's standard issue." 

Turned his eyes to her, she looked good. Even better than he'd remembered. Still sexy, sitting all prim and proper. Raven hair up in a sleek bun; dressed in black pants and a long sleeved blouse again. Her black rimmed glasses already on, her eyes avoiding looking at him as she twiddled the pen in her hand, focusing on the notepad on her lap under the guise of getting ready for business. Primed and ready to pick into his head, just like he'd been wanting her to do for days. 

The wait outside had taken the edge off the apprehension he'd been feeling, but he was still too pent up to sit down and he began to wander around the room. Drifting over to one of the windows and twitching the blinds to look out at the world. 

Seeing nothing but the construction across the street he turned his head back to the doctor and raised his eyebrows sassily. Pointing out to the ugly sight that loomed just across the street. Giving her a look that said - _'d'ya see this shit?'_

"Yes. I know." she said with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. Michael shook his head softly in disappointment and looked back out for a moment, letting a silence fall on the room again before wandering away from the window. 

Next, he prowled over to her desk, noting how neat she kept it. No pictures, or trinkets in place. Suggesting it was probably more for show than for her to do any actual work at. 

"I almost ended up at your house earlier." he announced, running his finger over the edge of the white oak desk, as he turned his attentions back into the room. Observing how there was not a single piece of herself to be found. No movie memorabilia like he'd seen in her house, no personal effects at all - just factual books and odd, lifeless statues, that no doubt had some connection to psychology. 

It felt so clinical, and way too practical. As if she was completely detached from the space, which troubled him, suggesting that maybe she had become as detached from her patients as she was from her work space. 

"Oh?" she asked, trying had to not notice just how good he looked, dressed in black chinos, with an olive green shirt over a black t-shirt. Black and white skate shoes on his feet, giving him a casual look that contrasted the smart professional look she was more familiar with. 

He could feel the way she kept glancing at him, almost shyly. Keeping a loose watch on him as he poked mindlessly at a thick book with a worn spine that sat at a skewed angle on her bookshelf for a moment before getting around to answering. 

"Was kinda on autopilot, got to the GOH intersection before I remembered you'd moved over here." 

Something told her that was partially untrue; he'd taken such an issue with her moving her base of operations into the city, it was unlikely he'd really forgotten her changing base. She sensed something had been causing him difficulties in keeping focus and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. 

"I was concerned the move may have put you off continuing therapy when you didn't make it in last week." she began. Giving him an opening to explain why he'd had to abandon their plans last minute. 

Having walked the perimeter the room once, Michael realized he had no viable choice but to give in, and sit down with her. He drifted over to the couch opposite and dropped himself down into it, running his hands over the new slightly rough fabric. It wasn't as nice as her own couch, which was soft and plump covered with suede. 

Trying to settle himself and adjust to his surroundings he let his eyes roam around the room once again from his new position, as if looking for an answer to give her, or a reason to accept the new space she'd chosen for herself. 

"Nah...." he dismissed casually, his eyes settling back on her. Looking for the spark which would blow him open and let him offload. He had imagined things going differently. Picturing walking in and instantly unravelling his problems for her, but for some reason he felt stunted, sensing an odd atmosphere. 

He started to consider that after fourteen days of bottling things up, the fracture in him that allowed his problems to pour out to her could well have healed over. He had hungered for a chance to see her again, to express everything that was troubling him, but now the opportunity was there, opening up wasn't coming as easy as he'd assumed it would. 

"I mean, I prefer your place, but it wasn't that." he forced out, knowing he needed to try to get back into the swing of talking about things. Rather than locking his jaw and seething like he did to cope when he was back in the real world. 

She looked over the top of her glasses at him; in that way that set every part of him on fire, and just like that she'd effortlessly coaxed him into elaborating. 

"You remember I said I'd owe Trevor a favour? For helpin' me out with that thing at the theatre?" he quizzed. 

"I remember." 

"Well....turns out it's not just like owing him a ride somewhere, lending him a few bucks, or somethin' easy. He wants me to help him on this six part elaborate fuckin' disaster waiting to happen bullshit." he groaned. 

"Okay?" she frowned. "Can I ask what exactly he wants you involved with?" 

"I don't wanna get into it, Doc." he told, wanting to avoid revealing the greater details of his new, unwelcome, role within Trevor Philips Industries. "But let's just say if I'd know the shit he'd pull me into when I asked him for help, I wouldn't have fuckin' bothered." 

Dr. Nardovino sensed there wasn't much point in asking for more information on what he was up to, so she pushed forward. "Is there any way you can refuse, or step back, and perhaps not engage with Trevor?" 

"You kiddin' me?" he said on a hollow chuckle. "Once you're in with that guy, there's no gettin' out....I mean, a few months back, he told me we were good. That all our old shit was done with, _forgotten_. But then the first chance he gets to drag me into somethin' else, he takes it....the minute I say I don't want to get involved with his shit again, he puts me on a guilt trip. Saying I owe him somethin', how I've still gotta make it right for all the shit I did to him." 

"Do you still feel like you owe him something?" 

"No!" he dismissed. "I helped make him rich beyond his wildest dreams, but it ain't about money for him no more, I don't think it ever was. He wants his runnin' buddy back, he wants it to be like the old days, but I've moved on." 

"Have you?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow. 

Michael's eyes narrowed, feeling a push in the direction of anger. "I'm tryin' to." he defended. 

"It seems to me that you're dancing in a grey area where you still want to have the best of both worlds. You'll always be pulled back in by people like Trevor, unless you completely cut ties to that side of your life." 

"I know." Michael nodded but his tone didn't express any desire to comply. 

" _But?_ "

Michael sighed, annoyed that she sensed there was more, making him have to elaborate. "Well....he's my best friend. As crazy as he is, I kinda missed havin' him in my life. I'm not sure I want to cut him out again, not completely anyway..." 

"Then you should consider putting some solid boundaries in place and holding firm with them." the doctor suggested. 

Michael almost rolled his eyes dismissively, but closed them on a sigh instead. He'd already tried to do as she said before, to no avail, but there was no point in arguing with her over it. Trevor was an issue that he knew he'd never resolve, outside of one of them being dead and buried - for real. He just had to learn to adapt and manage the problems as they came. While hoping like hell his old buddy didn't ruin everything he managed to achieve. 

Dr. Nardovino easily sensed that she was fighting a losing battle and decided it was for the best to stray from treading water discussing his nefarious life choices and shady friendships. "So how have things been otherwise?" 

"Oh you know...." he said, almost cheerfully before adding a snarky. "... _shitty!_ " 

"How so?" 

"Same old, same old, pretty much." he shrugged, still struggling to find a good place to start unloading the mountain of shit he was under. 

She knew he needed encouragement to focus in on the issues that were really troubling him, and she needed to keep him talking about relevant issues. Hoping it would help her ignore the way his black chinos his strong thighs so well; how the overshirt he wore, sleeves rolled to his elbows, made his forearms look huge and strong. How his large hands spread out and stroked the couch, as if they were looking for something softer to touch. 

"Is there anything specific, _other than Trevor_ , that stands out as a problem for you currently?" she asked keenly, wanting to distract her mind and put him on the right track to opening up again. 

Michael shrugged, his eyes settling on the coffee table in front of him. "I wouldn't know where to start, Doc." feeling like he was snowed in by his problems with no shovel to dig himself out. 

"Well then, let's start with today." she offered. "How did you feel when you woke up this morning?" 

"I barely slept." he told flatly. 

"How come?" 

"Been findin' it hard to switch off like I usually would." he confessed, tilting his head thoughtfully. His eyes hesitating on the way her silk blouse caressed over her full breasts. "...I can't sleep properly....been havin' another round of these bad dreams I used to get." he offered, still without looking at her. 

Dr. Nardovino nodded to herself. She'd recalled a brief mention in his notes of reoccurring dreams, but Michael reportedly only revealed their content vaguely to her predecessor, which made her eager to see if he would elaborate on them for her. 

"Tell me..." she asked gently. 

Michael focused in to her holding her big blue eyes for a beat before looking away again. The devil in him suggested he should tell of the dreams he'd had about her since they met. How in his head he'd taken her every which way imaginable, and some that he didn't think were possible, but he wasn't in the right mood to torment her. He felt unsettled and low. Finding it harder to ignore the odd hint of distance that he sensed was manifesting between them, radiating from the way she seemed to be carrying herself now. 

He looked away from her again, taking a moment to think of the issue at hand. Recalling how he'd always held back on telling Dr. Friedlander about what he saw while he slept, fearing judgement for the ridiculousness of his visions. 

Even though the provocative chemistry between him and his new therapist was apparently on some kind of hiatus, there was still something about her presence that made him want to let her in. Tell her the things he fiercely kept private. Let her see it all, regardless of the consequences to his ego. 

"It's always the same....more or less." he said thoughtfully, relaxing back into the couch to try and loosen his lips. He turned his head to her, focusing on her face again, this time watch for a reaction. " _Aliens._ " he told tonelessly, and to his surprise he saw no outward response on her face. 

"Abduction or invasion?" she quizzed. 

Michael tilted his head curiously, feeling her cast that invisible hook into him to begin pulling out the troubles from his head. "Both, _why_?" 

"Well, dreams can represent repressed urges, or wishes. Some people also consider them to be mirrors." 

He frowned curiously. He'd heard Dr. Friedlander say similar before, but his reluctance to reveal the true details about the dreams meant he never found a clear explanation for what he was forced to experience while sleeping. 

"For example..." she continued. "Dreaming of being abducted means you could be afraid of your surroundings or circumstances changing..."

"Well, that makes sense." Michael cut in. "Livin' in hidin' for the best part of ten years will do that to ya." 

She nodded, understanding in more ways than she could comfortably reveal to him. "It also might mean that you're afraid of losing your home and your family." she continued.  
She waited for him to respond, but he didn't. He just kept looking at her, and she hoped that it wasn't because she was unconsciously communicating the depths to which she understood his situation. 

Eager not to let him see into her soul, she chose to take his silence as an indication that she was going along the right path. Recalling how his notes had clearly stated that he had serious abandonment issues and desperately feared being alone. 

Dr. Nardovino searched inside herself for a way to move on, but her focus struggled against the way he kept staring at her, like he was trying to silently break her somehow. 

"It could also mean that you're troubled by the idea of your space, or privacy being invaded." she managed to force out, against the pressure she felt from his gaze. 

Michael relented, "Fuckin' A right!" he called out. Putting the feeling that she connected with him on a significant level to one side, to focus in on how much sense what she was saying made. Especially in terms of his life in bespoke witness protection, the life he'd tried to build and maintain in Los Santos, which had been tipped upside down in a matter of seconds, and was almost lost forever. Sadly he knew all too well that it could happen again at any given moment, if he continued to make the same mistakes. 

"How long have you had these dreams?" the doctor asked curiously. 

Michael looked over her pretty face as he thought back, his eyes fixating on her full lips again for a moment before his answer reached his own mouth. "Years. On and off. Probably started just after we got out here." 

She nodded. "That seems to imply that you've been having difficulty adapting to your environment."

"Let's be honest, Doc. Los Santos takes a lot of fuckin' adaptin' to." 

She chuckled softly, agreeing completely. Michael felt his mood lift at the sound of her laughter and the way her eyes sparkled in response to him. Breaking through the weak but ever present wall that he felt had settled between them. 

"But we're not just talking about that kind of environment." she clarified solidly. "It also means how you've had to suppress who you were prior to moving here. You've created a life for yourself here and despite being primarily in control of that, you've struggled to adjust to it and accept your... _retirement_."

"Tell me something I don't know." he groaned, almost rolling his eyes as he threw up his hands in dismal.

A moment of silence fell on them again, each looking at one another sideways. Both quietly trying to settle the increasingly stormy seas inside themselves. 

"So how do I learn to accept it and adjust?" he asked, feeling the need to kill the silence. 

"Well, since you've returned to your former profession, I'm not certain these dreams no longer fully represent your struggle to accept your new lifestyle, but it could more point towards you fearing that by returning to crime, you're risking the stability and security you've found. That you know it could cause you to lose your family again." 

Michael's eyes softened, almost sadly. "Then how come when I'm awake I can't seem to give much of a shit about security _or_ my family?" 

She thought for a moment, unsure how to answer. "How do you feel when you wake up from these dreams?" 

"Disorientated, panicked." he admitted. 

He'd missed the point of what she was asking, so she elaborated. "And how about in terms of being concerned about the issues you felt you didn't care about before going to sleep?"

"I dunno." he shrugged, feeling a little confused. "Worried, I guess. But then I go back downstairs to see the bullshit happening with my family, and the part of me that gives a shit curls up and dies all over again." 

She nodded contemplatively. "So what do you think that means?"

"The fuck do I know?" Michael exclaimed. "I'm here for _you_ to tell _me_ that shit." 

She'd backed herself into a corner, unsure of how to express what she felt his behaviour truly meant, without over stepping boundaries. "Part of therapy is for you to come to your own conclusions. I could give you textbook excuses and reasoning for everything you do, but that's not going to help you fully understand yourself." 

Michael looked at her through narrowed eyes, oddly irritated by her heavily professional tone, and lack of explanation for his own psyche or outward actions. "So how do I stop myself havin' these dreams?" he deflected. 

"Well, you need to understand what the meaning is. Is your subconscious telling you you're afraid of something, or is it acting as a mirror and revealing what you want to see?"

"What'd ya mean?" 

"Seeing yourself being abducted could possibly mean that part of you really wants to be taken away from your life," at that something twinkled in his eyes, but she refused to acknowledge it properly. "...Of course, it could also mean you're scared of what's waiting you in the future. There's really no definitive answer here, Michael. It's up to you to interpret your dream's meaning." she insisted, trying to ignore the odd way he was looking at her again. Like he hadn't eaten in weeks and she'd just offered him a juicy steak. "Ask yourself what you want. Do you want the security of a good home life with your family around you, or do you want to chase after what tempts you outside of that?" 

Michael felt himself darken, his eyes leaving hers to graze over her breasts, then her trim torso, down to her long legs. In that moment, all he could think about _chasing_ was her! Around the office. Pinning her against the desk and seeing if having her was as good as he'd been imagining it to be for weeks. 

"Michael?" she called out to him, bringing his focus back. 

He looked right at her, the urge to growl coming up from his chest. "Why can't I have both?" 

"It seems to me that presently, you _do_ have both, and that's what's bought us here." she said confidently, not stopping to allow him a chance to cut in with a defence. "Unless you can decide or find a way to seamlessly maintain two lives, the conflict you create by trying to balance both worlds is never going to end. There will come a point when you have to make a choice." 

"I've already had to!" he declared. "On more than one occasion." 

"But that only worked for as long as it did because you suppressed what you were, everything you knew."

"And that's the only way I could survive." Michael defended. 

"I understand that." she told him, knowing more about suppressing her former self more than most people who sat on her couch. "But you will never be free of this cycle you're trapped in, unless you either return to that cocooned state you were in, or make conscious moves to change yourself and your environment, more in one direction or another." 

"What are you saying, Doc? _Shit, or get off the pot_?"

"No. Not at all." she protested. " _But_ you really need to really look inside yourself and ask what you want out of life. It's long been established that you felt unfulfilled during your _retirement_ and you've recently felt like you've come alive again by revisiting past behaviours, but by doing that you risk losing that which you seem to value."

"My family?" 

She wasn't sure if that was accurate or not. Thanks to Dr. Friedlander's notes she'd deduced that Michael's primary feeling for his family were largely selfish in regard to his fear of being alone, but she agreed with a noncommittal nod. 

She thought for a moment of how best to express what she knew without influencing the choices he might have to make. "I understand from your notes that you have some issues...with being alone, but you need to establish how that fits in with what you really want to get out of life and the choices you may be called to make at some point in the future." 

Michael let out a heavy sigh, and leaned forwards, putting his face in his hands for a moment. Letting a silence settle between them again. 

This wasn't what he'd hoped to get out of the session. He'd wanted to walk in, rant about how awful life was. Complain about work, and Amanda and the kids, and leave feeling lighter and brighter. She was making him think too much. Unknowingly piling another heap of worry on his already overloaded back. 

He didn't need to do any more thinking or worrying about life, all he'd been doing for weeks was struggle to make sense of the mess he kept getting himself into. He didn't want to start soul searching, afraid of what he might find if he looked too hard. He needed to shift the focus, try and scramble for a distraction from the unwelcome heaviness of their discussion. 

Ignoring the direction she was guiding him in, he leant back into the couch and looked over at her. Eyeing her up and down for a moment or two, contemplatively with a twinkle of lust still in his eyes. 

"You seem different, Doc." he suggested, hoping to have her stray out from under the shrink costume she was wearing oh-so well now. 

The urge to swallow hard filled her throat, but she breathed through it. "We're not here to talk about me, Michael. We're here to talk about you." she shut him down. 

His eyes darkened. "Well what if I don't wanna talk about me no more?" 

She took a deep, silent breath, crossing her legs at the knee in a subconsciously defensive move. She knew he was trying to lead her astray again, but she couldn't afford to allow it. She _wouldn't_ allow it. 

"Then let's talk about your family." she offered, almost able to sense exactly where his mind was going. Something about the intense look in his eye said he was going to dominate the situation, start trying to flirt with her again. Lead her astray, so he could evade the issues she tried to make him face. 

"Last time we saw each other," she continued quickly, not allowing him to take advantage of any weakness she'd unknowingly revealed. "You said your wife wanted you to attend a social event..." she deliberately avoided relaying the details she recalled. Not wanting him to know that she'd spent an unhealthy amount of time thinking about him and his wife trying to play make-believe for their friends. "Did you go with her in the end?" 

Michael almost growled in frustration. He wanted to play with the doctor, turn the tables on her to forget the stresses in his mind. Flirt a little and see if she'd play ball, but apparently she wasn't having any of it. She guarded, bordering on stoic, much more so than he'd ever seen her be before.

"Fuck no." he snarled, irritated by her questions and steadfastness. 

"How did your wife take that?"

"I told her I had to work late at the studio."

"And did you?" 

"No."

"So what did you do instead?" she pried. 

Michael's eyes roamed over her again, his mind flashing to a thought about what kind of lingerie she was wearing under the business wear, as he resisted telling her that he'd almost driven to her house that particular night. With an intention of doing more a hell of a lot more than talking. 

"Went to a strip club." he lied, unable to resist the cruel impulse to test her reaction. 

Somehow Dr. Nardovino had guessed he'd say as much and her prediction helped her avoid showing any outward reaction. "And your wife isn't aware of this?" she asked him, stony faced. 

"Of course not." 

"Do you think it was wise to lie to her like that, considering you're supposed to be working on your relationship." she stopped herself, realizing she was indirectly projecting her issues with him into the session. "Reconciling your differences?" she added, to clarify she was talking about only his marriage. 

Michael hesitated in answering, sensing her question was loaded. Something about the way she'd worded it felt like she was getting at more than lying to only his wife. 

"To be honest, Doc." he said finally. "I don't care whether it was wise or not. It got me out of some shit I didn't want to be involved in, and that's good enough for me." 

Dr. Nardovino felt exasperated. She hated dancing around the point with him, but to confront things head on would be too damaging. "You're being very defensive, Michael." she gave, delicately. 

Michael narrowed his eyes, almost aggressively. She was being way too shrink-like, and he was not a fan of the change in her. "And you're being very weird." 

She frowned. "What do you mean?" 

"You're all different. This office. It's sucked the life outta you. Killed the spark-" he stopped short, preventing himself from adding the words "between" and "us" to his statement. 

"I'm merely doing my job." she reminded. "I'd like for us to get to the bottom of the issues you've been dealing with since our last session."  
Part of him wanted to jump down her throat. Start throwing his weight around and hurling questions at her about why she was acting so, _so_.....so Goddamn detached! So professional all of a sudden! 

He wanted to know why it felt like she kept pouring ice water on the spark that caught between them. Yet his charged mind began to idle, causing his mood to shift just enough to spare her the brunt of his pent up frustrations. 

He melted back into the couch with a silent sigh. "I'm just struggling, Doc." he mumbled. "Shit's been getting on top of me. Making everything seem like _something_." he growled. "I mean, I've never been a huge sleeper, but if I don't get any sleep at all, and these dreams have been keeping me up all the damn time, then...I dunno...it just makes it so much harder to not be a fuckin' monster." 

Dr Nardovino nodded, relived that he'd managed to switch his aggression away from her and back onto the root cause of his current emotional state. "I could have a colleague prescribe you some sleeping tablets, if you feel that would help?" 

"Fuck that!" he dismissed. "I can't afford to be out of it! If somethin' happens..." he trailed off. His mind clouding with recent memories of Merryweather invading his home. 

She understood exactly what he meant, but her training told her to ask for clarification. "What do you mean? What do you think might happen?" 

Michael threw his hands up dismissively. "I dunno." he dismissed, but the truth was, _he did know_. He constantly lived in fear of the police coming for him, enemies from his past, ghosts that lurked as distant memories, yet always seemed to rush to the foreground of his mind to trouble him at night. 

The very same things that haunted his therapist. 

Dr Nardovino had been trying so hard to ignore the pull to him, but seeing her own fears mirrored in him tuagged at the defences she'd put in place. She knew exactly what it felt like to be unable to relax and forget the horrors of the past that still held such control over the present. 

The scar tissue over her own wounds began to weaken, and her eyes suddenly felt heavy with barely contained emotions. She felt so drawn to him again, like she wanted to throw her notepad down and declare to him that she got it! Confess that she completely understood how it felt to feel hunted and unsafe. 

She wanted to toss her decision to distance herself from him out of the window and level with him. Connect with him on a personal level, to touch him physically, to feel another person who was haunted by the same kind of ghosts. But before she could do something stupid, her defences snapped back into place. 

Her internal alarm clock going off just in time to save her, forcing her eyes off him and over to the wall to see their time together was almost at an end. She felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment as she was pulled back into the moment. Feeling the push to reveal herself to him relent enough to find her professionalism once again. 

She knew they needed to dig deeper into what haunted him, but she was glad their session was almost over. Things were hitting too close to home, and the stronger the draw to him became, the weaker her resolve to be strong around him became. She needed to get him out of her space before she cracked open and bled all over him. 

"You alright, Doc?" he asked with a frown, sensing something heavy was going on behind her eyes. Something that stirred feelings inside him, that for the first time didn't primarily relate to lust. 

She blinked away the clouds in her eyes and forced an small, awkward smile. "If you really feel medication is not an option, next time, we really should try and uncover what's preventing you from being able to switch off, and let your guard down enough to sleep properly." she insisted, almost rambling. Confirming to him that he'd triggered something troubling inside her. 

He focused in on her, searching her face for a clue to pair up with the oddest of electric sensations inside him. Ones that strongly suggested she related to his plight better than anyone else ever could have. 

"I think we both know the answer to that already." he told contemplatively, forcing her to break eye contact with him. 

Refusing to consider what he was getting at, she closed her notepad as an indication the session was over. "We can discuss it further next time. Until then, if you can, try to cut back on your alcohol and nicotine intake, that may help. You mentioned doing yoga before, trying that and some relaxation techniques before going to sleep could prevent the nightmares." 

Michael pushed his concern for her to one side, and gave her a look which said she wasn't just barking up the wrong tree, but she was in fact in entirely the wrong forest. 

She sighed to herself, becoming more and more convinced that Dr. Friedlander was right about him not wanting to help himself. " _Alternatively_ ," she offered. "You can try something called image reversal." 

"What's that?" 

"It's a cognitive therapy, where you imagine an alternative ending to the bad dream. Something positive, or what you'd really like to see." 

He chuckled cynically. "Like what? Defeatin' the evil alien overlord and gettin' the girl?" 

Dr. Nardovino deliberately ignored what he could have been getting at with _that_ particular remark. "If that's what you want to see, then yes. You can try writing it down or drawing it." Michael scoffed at her suggestion with a huff of laughter. " _Or_ " she called, taking back his attention. "...You can just focus on it, replay what you want to see over and over in your mind. Like a movie. So you're training yourself to manipulate your nightmares, in a sense." 

Michael sighed, exasperated by the lack of easy solutions, although he did kind of like the idea of playing out a movie in his head. One where he raced through town to get to her office building, to rescue her from the evil beige alien overlords, who threatened her with trying to suck out all her uniqueness and spark that had originally appealed to him so greatly.  
"I'll give it a try." he agreed, unconvincingly. 

"That's all I ask." she said with a soft smile. "You can let me know how it goes next week." with that, she stood up, looking down at Michael who took her cue and rose to join her. 

They didn't say a word to one another, as she ushered him out of her office, pinning her innermost desires down as hard as she could. Refusing to acknowledge the part of herself that felt so deeply drawn to him. 

They opened their mouths only to confirm their appointment at the same time the following week and with that they parted ways. 

As soon as the door closed on him, Dr. Nardovino let out an exasperated sigh. A million reminders of all the things she'd forgot to discuss with him rushing to her mind at once. 

She should have known dealing with him would be harder than she anticipated. That he would throw her some kind of curveball that destabilized her defences. Something that would stir up the long settled dust inside herself; encourage the ghosts she suppressed inside her true self to come out for him to see. 

She had to try harder to detach herself, to not let his troubles draw out her own. If she was ever going to be an affective therapist for him, she had homework to do, and walls to rebuild. 

As Michael left the building he felt an uncomfortable sense of disappointment. He lacked the relief and fulfilment he'd felt on ending their previous sessions. Things had got too heavy in her new office; she'd given him too much to think about. Too many questions that needed answers. 

Rather than sharing with her the load that he was under, she had seemingly added to it. Making him question himself and his motives too much. He needed a therapist to vent too, not someone who would unlock all the boxes he tried to keep sealed inside himself. 

What was worse, was how her subtle reactions troubled him. Filling him with yet more questions and concerns about who she really was underneath the cool, collected exterior. She kept showing hints of the other sides of herself. A little feistiness here, some sassiness there, but above all, the more they spoke about his troubles, the more she seemed to helplessly reveal her own to him. She was haunted by something, he'd seen it behind her eyes right from the start, but that little casual curiosity was going to grow and grow into something much bigger. Something he'd need to explore before too much longer. 

Quite how he was going to cope with not seeing her for another seven days, he didn't know. It seemed like an impossibly long time to wait until he could get another shot at venting, and prying into her head. As he left the building, a voice deep inside him said something was going to have to give before eleven am next Thursday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed the chapters. Comments, criticism, suggestions and such are always welcomed. I love hearing from you guys! Thanks for reading!


	9. Home Invasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I have to start by saying sorry for the slack updates/replies, time really got away from me and I've been out of town this past week. 
> 
> I'm not over exaggerating when I say I am legitimately overwhelmed by the awesome response the last update got. Thank you guys so SO much for coming out and showing love for this fic. It means the world to me to hear from you all! 
> 
> Since last chapter was kind of intense, I wanted to do something a bit more fun with this one and kind of play with the type of dynamic that Michael has with Franklin a little more. In how, for example in option B of the Bureau Raid, he accepts his protégé calling him out on his "poor me" attitude. Of course, the sexual tension makes things a little different when it comes to Cassidy, but you'll see what happens! ;o) 
> 
> _PS. I almost always write to music and make a soundtrack of sorts to go with a fic. So the two songs that are mention mid chapter, are Stranglehold by Ted Nugent (it's totally a "Michael song") and Call Me by Saint Paul and The Broken Bones (look 'em up. The lead singer kinda reminds me of Lester haha!)_

I knew you were  
You were gonna come to me  
And here you are  
But you better choose carefully  
‘Cause I, I’m capable of anything  
Of anything and everything  
Make me your Aphrodite  
Make me your one and only  
But don’t make me your enemy..  
**\-- Dark Horse by Katy Perry**

  
The intensity of his first therapy session in two weeks hadn't done Michael any favours at all. He felt a pressure inside in the days after speaking with Dr. Nardovino. A burden of sorts that he'd hoped to shed in her office, but ended up keeping hold for instead. He hadn't expected her to take the analytical direction she did, and she'd given him so much to consider. Nothing more so than the odd kind of connection he sensed between them when he spoke of his deepest inner fears.

That in itself only served to become another thing to bug him, as he found himself with a lengthening list of questions about her. New curiosities coming to his mind every time his thoughts went to her, or as he replayed the session in his head. Everything about the hour they'd spent together felt strange. How at first she had seemed so in control of herself, to the point of being distant, before her facade all but shattered the moment he'd mentioned his difficulty sleeping with ghosts. 

He couldn't get the haunted look in her eye out of his head, wondering more and more what was really going on with her. What skeletons hid inside her closet, amongst the dark pants and long sleeved blouses she chose to wear around him. 

The only truly positive thing he had taken from the session was her suggestion to make his nightmares into a movie; that had indeed been helpful. He found rather than lying in bed, letting his mind race with questions and worries, he focused on running scenes on the back of his eyelids. Watching his own little movie play out, where he was the hero and _she_ was the damsel in distress. 

He'd started out imagining only aliens coming for her, but before long he was picturing other evil forces instead, the ones that he sensed troubling her. Of course he wasn't sure if he should pretend he was fighting evil clowns or hit men but having something to focus on, something that he could lose himself in, helped greatly. He found he fell asleep much easier, and managed to stay asleep long enough to recharge himself a little. 

However, as soon as he woke up and returned to the real world, every pressure was still waiting and ever eager to pounce on his back again. Reminding him of how desperately he just really needed to have a good full on rant about life, just to let off some steam with someone who actually seemed to care. 

By Saturday afternoon, he was close to a mega eruption. All he wanted to do was lounge by the pool and relax, concoct another mini-movie in his head and escape the world during daylight hours. Hoping it would be enough to help him endure the pressures until he could off load at his next therapy session. However, at every turn something seemed to be poking at him and threatening to pull the trigger which would cause him to snap and act out. 

He had to get out of the house and away from his family before he blew. Slammed doors and raised voices echoed off the walls again, as a surprise visit from his daughter Tracey had turned into a colossal squabble over her no-hoper boyfriend, which then escalated into a fight that dredged up a hundred other irrelevant issues to argue over. 

Amanda had begged him to step in and try to resolve the matter but he knew there was no point in even _trying_ to intervene; no-one he shared a last name with ever listened to him. He was tired of being trapped between wasting his breath and biting his tongue. So without a word to his family, he found his car keys and sunglasses, walked out of the house, got into his black sedan and just started driving. 

He wasn't aiming for anywhere in particular; lost again in his own thoughts and stresses. Driving blind against the ghosts of the past, as they joined forces with the troubles ahead in the future and the current irritants of home life. All working together to fill his head with a thick fog that forced him into running on auto-pilot. 

When the haze finally cleared, allowing him to focus in on the present properly, he found his car was idling opposite Dr. Nardovino's house. 

He quickly realized what he'd unconsciously done and his first thought was to put his foot back on the gas and drive away. Troubled by the fact he'd somehow allowed his subconscious to take him to her in such a way. 

However, his eyes caught on her front door and he noticed it was wide open to the world, held in place with a heavy looking box. 

He wasn't a big believer in fate, but he couldn't deny it seemed like the sign he was unknowingly looking for. His mind had wandered to her so many times since they'd last met. Hungry desires mixing with the curious thoughts that captured his attention so strongly, they were impossible to ignore. 

She seemed to intrigue every part of him, from his protective instincts to his lustful desires, and that in itself was an entirely new experience for him. He'd often had one extreme or the other played on by a woman, but never both at the same time, and everything else in between too. There was something about her that really got under his skin, and he couldn't run away from it, even though he was well aware that was the smart thing to do. 

It was wrong to invade her home, he knew that, but now the idea was in his head he couldn't think of anything else he'd rather do. The odd sense of distance he'd felt between them in her office had bugged him immensely. Her new strictly professional demeanour made him worrying him that perhaps the chemistry he felt between them had died somewhere along the line. He'd feared the time span between his sessions would have some effect, the change in venue hadn't helped either, but maybe visiting her at home was the answer. 

She was unguarded there, and would likely be unable to hide behind her professionalism. She'd be candid and possibly open to revealing everything he hungered to know. This was his chance; his best opportunity to see the real her and recapture the dynamic he'd initially felt between them. 

Instead of doing the right thing, and driving on by, he defiantly put his foot gently on the gas and turned the steering wheel, guiding his car onto her driveway. Parking up next to her black Obey SUV and killing the engine before he could reconsider his actions. 

Despite the knowledge that such an action was morally questionable, he was doing the right thing for himself. He had to take the shot he'd been given, that much he was sure of. 

Not considering how his actions would make her feel, he got out of the car and stalked over to her door. Noticing instantly that a familiar seventies rock song was flowing out of the house into the sunny mid-afternoon. 

He paused in his tracks, considering that perhaps this wasn't a good time after all. Maybe she was holding some kind of party. An open house for her Los Santos friends to come over and enjoy their weekend together, or something similar. He began to fear discovering something he wouldn't like to learn of - a new boyfriend perhaps. Maybe she was spending her day with a much younger, fitter, more attractive man. Finding that out that would shatter all of his fantasies and ruin the solace he found in letting his mind run off with visions of her. 

The thought to turn around a leave came on strong, but he pushed it away. He'd obviously arrived there for a reason, and he needed to find out what it was. He needed to see her, regardless of who she was with. He had to know that she still existed outside of her new office; to try and feel that spark that had felt so magnetic when they were last locked away in the four walls of her home. 

He took a quick look around outside, and noticed apart from her music, the street was quiet. Only their cars were on the driveway, and tuning in his ears over the music, he couldn't even hear any activity down on the beach. 

The details were assuring, but they didn't matter as deep down he didn't really care what she was up to, or if she had company. He need to take the chance by calling in on her, eager to maybe see what she was really like behind closed doors. Catch her off guard and get a real glimpse into her closely guarded private life. 

Without another hesitation, he stepped over the makeshift doorstop and jogged up the handful of steps, to find the interior door was also held open, as if awaiting his arrival again. 

Eager and oddly hopeful, he looked through the doorway into her music filled house and his eyes instantly finding her on the far side of the room.

She had her back to him, as she worked on painting the wall around the fireplace. Her body moving along with the beat of rock music as a cool ocean breeze rolled through the house from the open patio doors. 

He was frozen in place, instantly mesmerized by her movements; the way her hips swayed to the seductive tune. Fixating on how she slowly sank down low and effortlessly slid back up again. Rocking her body in a smooth, snake-like motion. 

The long legs she'd kept covered from him since their first meeting were on display by the denim cut offs she wore, that finished just below her ass cheeks. Her lower back was exposed too, by the way she had her sleeveless t-shirt tied up around her waist, exposing just enough tanned skin to infect him with more lust than ever before. 

The way she moved her body reminded him of the strippers he'd slobbered over so often, only there was something much sexier about watching her. She wasn't putting on a show for him; she wasn't forcing it. Everything she was doing was natural, private - _secret almost_ \- and it turned him on intensely. 

He felt his body tingle with warmth as he relaxed in to lean against the door jamb, his eyes hooding slightly, mouth falling open slightly with lust. As the guitar squealed, his eyes focused in on the flash of bare skin to the right side of her back, which hinted at a tattoo. He was too far away, and her body moved too slickly to identify the design, but just knowing it existed made him smile. He knew she was hiding something underneath her carefully crafted professional appearance. 

His hungry eyes ran up and down her toned body as she moved seductively, her head rolling head back from time to time, as she ran the paint brush up and down the wall, like she was giving the drywall a lap dance. Rocking her hips to the dirty, pumping drum beat and the intermittent aggressive guitar. 

_'Sometimes you wanna get higher, and sometimes you gotta start low. Some people think they gonna die someday, I got news, ya never got to go.'_ the dark voice sang out. 

Michael watched intensely as her movements built speed gradually with the music. Pumping her hips to the marching beat, swaying her shoulders in time, moving so alluringly for a moment, before sliding down in one fluid motion as the guitar wailed. Slowly gliding her way back up with her body swaying to the ever increasing tempo, grinding her hips in a manner which made heat concentrate deep at his center. He wished he was in front of her, imaging the look on her face. Seductive and sensual as she gave the wall the best show of its life. Her moves passionate and enticing, matching the sexy rhythm of the music.

Suddenly the singer cried out and the tune raged. Making her shake her head frantically from side to side with the rapid drums, flicking her messy pony tail around. _'The road I cruise is a bitch now, baby. But no, you can't turn me round. And if a house gets in my way, baby, you know I'll burn it down.'_ the man's voice growled as she snaked her way down low again, only to slide back up sexily in one long liquid like motion. Her slinking movements filled him with a deep lust that he didn't realize he was capable of feeling. 

The song reached its climax, the drums and guitar joining forces to bring a powerful end, which caused her to speed up her movements. Making her hips move in a figure of eight motion as she rolled her head again and threw her arms up in the air triumphantly, as if she'd been performing the song herself. 

Of course, she unknowingly _had_ for Michael and he could have happily stayed there forever watching, slack jawed and lusty eyed, but before he could seize the opportunity to announce his presence to see what it got him; the next song clicked without allowing a moment of silence to pass. 

With his shoulder still rested against the door frame, he sank back into the shadows a little, ready for the next performance as an upbeat soul number that he'd never heard before started filling the room. He need to remain undetected, not wanting the show to end now she was dancing again. He was seeing a whole new side to her, one that he hadn't considered to be possible, but one he enjoyed nonetheless. 

She moved less sensually this time, but she was still as alluring. Michael felt his foot tapping to the catchy rhythm and chirpy trumpets, watching as her feet moved more than before, singing into her paintbrush as if it was a microphone. Putting on a comical growly voice that tried to mimic the singers, that alone made him chuckle deeply. 

_'We ain't the lovers, that will tear me down. We ain't the fortune, all over this town. You got your limit, baby, I got mine. Six-eleven, three-three, six-nine. You got to call me baby..."_ The soulful voice crooned against the up tempo soul music, as she danced happily completely oblivious to him watching. 

He found the lust in him settle a little as he broke into a smile, amused by how she'd switched moods so flawlessly. She'd seemingly forgotten about painting, as she danced much more comically than he'd found her doing. Bobbing around, stepping side to side energetically, and waving her arms around but there was still something incredibly sexy about the way she moved. It was perfectly candid, giving him the glimpse into who she was that he'd so desperately craved. 

She was having her own private party and the sight of her cutting loose, fooling around singing along without a care in the world took his mind away from reality so effortlessly. It was a nice image, not just for the sensations it caused in him, but how it countered the trouble he'd seen in her eyes the last time they'd been together. 

Never in a million years would he have pictured her doing such things, behind closed doors or otherwise. There was something kind of magical about being privy to a new side of her, one that he guessed she probably didn't show many people, and he liked it. _A lot._ It had been a long time since he'd seen someone enjoying themselves so much, so simplistically at least. 

Michael couldn't help but laugh to himself as she suddenly raised up her hands, like one of those corny preachers on TV that begged people to 'testify'. Singing along at the top of her lungs and waving her hands around as she lost herself in the music.

Knowing the song by heart, Cassidy instantly heard an unfamiliar sound of laughter against the track, and panic grabbed her heart; her blissful escapism suddenly shattering. Forcing her to become aware of predatory eyes on her. 

She jumped and spun around to see Michael in the doorway, wearing a shit-eating smirk on his face. 

"Jesus Christ! _Michael!_ " she cried, her hands grabbing her chest, to make sure her heart hadn't just made a leap for freedom. "You scared me to death!" she gasped, taking deep breath to steady herself and her pounding heart, before quickly rushing over to her stereo and shut the music off. 

The silence made her realize that her cheeks were warm with embarrassment and her body was aflame from the look in his eye. Her heart skittering frantically around her chest in both excitement and anxiety. 

He straightened up in the doorway, but didn't stop smiling. Watching her dance for the few minutes he had was some of the best therapy he'd ever experienced. 

"Sorry, I was lookin' for Dr. Nardovino." he joked. "Ain't seen her around have ya?"

"Funny." she groaned, trying to hide how self-conscious she was by him catching her in a private moment. She could barely look at him, dreading to think how stupid she must have looked. Too flustered to even think of how it would impact on their professional relationship.

"How long have you been there?" she asked, trying not to bite at her lip nervously. 

"Long enough." he grinned wickedly. 

The urge to call him an asshole rushed to her lips, but she swallowed it back. Her eyes roaming over him, standing there dressed casually but still looking every bit the charming scoundrel he was. Wearing deep blue jeans and well worn brown boots, with a slightly darker denim shirt over a white top of some sort. Looking at her with his steely blue eyes, the way a fox looked at a chicken coop, his right leg jiggling slightly hinting at a hidden sense of apprehension within him. She felt electricity prickle at her skin but she shrugged it off, scrambling to find her professional demeanour. 

She suddenly felt horribly exposed in the heat of his gaze. The vulnerability she felt by just having him there, where she was unable to find a buffer to deflect his sly advances. 

She was wearing so little, her over-sized Love Fist t-shirt was tied just above her belly button, showing off a toned lower abdomen. The arm holes were so big, she couldn't avoid showing a troubling amount of side boob too. He was seeing everything she'd tried so hard to keep from him since their first meeting. 

She couldn't look at him straight, and scratched her head nervously, looking for an escape route, a way to get rid of him. Not realizing she had paint on her hands, which she easily transferred to into her hair. 

_'Shit!'_ she hissed to herself when she realized what she'd done, but it was less about the paint in her hair and more about what she'd unwillingly let him see, and the way he was looking at her. Lusty, amused and something else she couldn't find the right name for. 

"What's wrong, Michael?" she asked, desperate to regain some kind of composure as she looked for a rag to wipe her hands on. "Why are you here?" 

He confidently took a few steps further inside, never taking his eyes off her. _He couldn't._

In that moment, the reason why he was there had disappeared from memory, there was no longer an urge to rant within him, and that wasn't the only reason he was glad he'd show up just as the right time. 

"Heard you were puttin' on a show." he teased. 

She tilted her head and looked at him in the way she sometimes did over her glasses, this time with a little annoyance mixed into her barely contained embarrassment. "This is why you shouldn't visit me at home." she scolded lightly, concentrating on wiping away the paint in a bid to avoid his amused eyes. 

She was clearly troubled by his breach of conduct but he had _no_ regrets. In fact, he thought showing up on her door step was about the best thing he'd done on a Saturday afternoon, in a long time. 

"Yeah, I know, but I don't play by the rules, sweetheart." 

She felt a warm shiver run though her, fighting against the urge in her to snap at him for calling her that - breaching their professional relationship _yet again_. 

"I've noticed" she whispered, wishing the ground would open up and suck her in. Anything to get away from the ravenous way he was eyeballing her. Undoing all the hard work she'd done to build up her defences against him. 

"You said I could come by whenever..." he defended, feeling that he needed to at least try to explain himself. Remind her of the offer she'd made when the met for the very first time. 

"This wasn't what I meant." 

His eyes ran over her face and he could see that she wasn't enjoying the situation anything close to how much he was. The realization deflated him some. He knew he was over stepping boundaries, but he hadn't been able to resist; his failure to control himself getting the better of him again. 

"A'right, I'll leave. Sorry." he offered, the joy fading from his eyes, as he turned away, turning back out to the door again but she spoke up and stopped him. 

"No...it's okay. You're here now." she soothed. Damage was done, he'd forever be picturing her as she was in those moments now. Her professionalism was already in serious jeopardy, pushing him away would just mean all her embarrassment was for nothing. Their connection would be blown completely if she rejected him, and she knew it was already seriously corrupted. However, she hoped it was nothing they couldn't pull back, as long as she didn't allow the rope to slip too far from her hands, or for him to worm his way around her as his eyes threatened he would. 

"What did you want to talk about?" she offered, trying to bring him back in. 

Truth was, he'd forgotten. All he wanted to talk about now was what she'd been doing, the music she'd been listening to. Find out where she'd learned to pull those sexy moves, and discover what had put her in such a seemingly good mood. Ask her the hundreds of questions that had sprouted in his head as he tried to figure her out with what little information he'd managed to gather. 

"Nothin' major....I guess I just needed a place to go...somethin' to do." 

She looked at him blankly for a moment, stuck for the right thing to say, and not knowing the appropriate course of action to take. He was really crossing a line, but she searched inside herself and couldn't come up with the strength to turn him away. 

She knew she should be uncomfortable with the situation, acutely aware of how she was breaking the rules of her job, and what it meant for their therapeutic relationship but as her immediate panic dissipated she felt herself relaxing. Noticing how he looked so oddly lost and almost needy. It went against her nature to turn her back on someone who was clearly crying out for help. 

"Alright." she relented. There was no point in sending him away now, she just had to roll with the punches. Keep him on his toes, regain some sort of control over the situation. "Since you're here, and I'm off the clock....you can make yourself useful and help me finish this up..." she picked up a brand new paint roller and tossed it over to him, testing the waters for his reaction. 

He caught it, looked it over and chuckled softly at her nerve. "Am I going to be paying for this session?"

A smile threatened on her lips. "I'll see how well you paint before I decide on that." 

Michael laughed deeply, he liked it when she sassed him. It made her even more sexy; more challenging. 

She picked up her brush again and turned back to the wall, giving herself a moment to recover her composure while he came over to her side of the room. Stopping by the couch to take off his blue over-shirt; revealing his strong, toned arms and solid chest in his white tank top, before taking a spot at the opposite end of the fireplace where the wall hadn't yet been painted. 

She glanced to him out of the corner of her eye and swallowed hard to see how he was now so underdressed. She'd been trying desperate not to wonder about what he looked like underneath his suit jackets and shirts. The vision of him there besides her pushed her onto a very slippery slope, and she could already feel herself sliding back down into place she'd struggled to avoid venturing into. 

Michael sensed she was uneasy with him stripping off, but he needed to try and avoid getting paint on himself. Knowing that Amanda would wake up and pay attention to something so out of the ordinary. Especially since she'd been doing nothing but talking paint colours with him for weeks, and he'd shown no interest whatsoever. 

He took the roller and rubbed it into the tray resting on the mantelpiece, covering it with a pale turquoise colour, which seemed to bring the ocean inside. "This is nice..." he said and Cassidy turned her head with a frown, for a moment unsure what he was talking about. "The paint." he told her pointing to it. "Although this...." he gestured between them "...is good too." 

She looked away from him. "Just paint the wall please Michael." she said, trying her best to prevent him going down _that_ particular road with her. He was her patient, not her friend and definitely not a potential lover. There was no _'this'_ between them. There couldn't be. 

"Yes, ma'am." he smiled. Stepping a little closer to the wall and making a start on covering over the original heather grey colour. 

A few moments of strangely comfortable silence passed between them, before she felt the need to speak up and break it. If she let him lead the conversation there was no telling where they'd end up.

"So, what's going on with you?" 

He thought for a moment, deciding against telling her how he'd been going crazy after feeling so unfulfilled by their last session. How in every quiet moment he'd had, his mind had wandered back to thoughts of nothing but her. 

"Ah...you know." he shrugged. "Same shit, different day." 

"Yeah?" 

He knew she was trying her best to make the situation about his therapy, and he admired her for it. Despite his hunger to learn more about her and pry into her life, he had to work with her. He wasn't ignorant to how he was breaching some rule or another by being there with her, and he didn't want to give her any reason to turn him out on his ear, or worse - cut him off all together. He had to give her something, in the hope that it would encourage him to open up to indulging in the good old rant about his quality of life. The rant he'd so desperately needed before being overwhelmed by the sighs her house contained. 

"Solomon's been puttin' more and more responsibility on me. Word around the studio is he might be givin' in and thinkin' about retiring, now that he knows he has someone around who actually gives a shit about keepin' the place goin'."

"Really?" she chirped. "That's awesome." her face beamed, unable to hide how please she was to know he had a real shot at a legitimate future on the table. 

"Yeah, it is...." Michael nodded, feeling a warmth fill him to see her reaction. She really seemed to care. Unlike his family, who showed more interest in the left over pizza in their fridge than his career path. 

Cassidy noted his expression and guessed there was something else to it. " _But?_ "

He looked at her sideways, she could read him like a book and he wasn't sure if he should hate it or not. 

He didn't want to seem like an even bigger asshole for complaining about how his family didn't care a damn about his potential, so he chose only to voice the secondary issue with his success. "Ah, you know...I like havin' the old bastard around. The idea of him retiring..." he trailed off, pulled back into his troubled thoughts. "...I'm not sure I want to do it by myself." 

"That's understandable." she agreed. 

"I'm still kinda new to the whole thing, I don't want to fuck it up. Ruin years of history." 

"It's a big responsibility. But you're up to the task though..." she said, it was unclear if it was a statement or a question. 

"I guess. But, I got so much shit goin' on....With Trevor, and the new score and all..." he paused, looking at her for recognition and she nodded. He didn't need to elaborate any further. She didn't want the details of the job he was pulling. Knowing if he told her and she had no influence or control over the matter, she would do nothing but worry uselessly about him. 

"You're going through with all that?" 

Michael looked away, back to the painting. "I think so. Kinda have to." he defended, unsure himself. He was internally at war over risking the legitimacy he'd recently found, by indulging in another crime spree, but circumstances made it difficult to resist. As did the influence of his overbearing best friend. 

"Just be careful, alright?" she asked without thinking. Instantly regretting opening her mouth and showing a less than professional level of concern for him. 

Michael smiled softly, warmed by her interest in his safety. It was a rare thing for someone to show they cared. "I'll do my best, Doc." 

She glanced at him sideways, noticing the enamoured look on his face. It was a bad sign, the way she was feeling about him, the way he seemed to be feeling for her. How he was like a flame, and she the moth. 

_Why did he have to be so difficult?_ None of her other patients showed up at her house, or sent her flowers, or pierced into her soul with their intense eyes. She was a strong woman, she knew how to handle trouble when it came knocking, but he was a different threat all together. One that threatened far more than just the stability she was trying to build for herself. 

It would be daunting to do so, but she had to nip things in the bud before he let himself get carried away. God only knew if she let him lead her towards his light she'd be burned to a hopeless crisp. 

Nothing good could come out of how she was feeling for him, nothing good at all. She had to think of his family, his wife. Her career and the life she'd forged from the ashes of her past. 

"So, how are things at home now?" she added quickly. Wanting to move the conversation along and to remind him that he had certain responsibilities to consider. Trying to create some kind of proper therapy session, hoping that maybe if she did that an appropriate moment would arise to address what had been developing between them. If she could bring herself to do it against the emotional storm that was brewing inside her. 

"Ach!" Michael dismissed. "Same as ever, but the bathroom has finally been finished." 

"Well that's something..." she offered, as she painted. Concentrating hard on keeping the lines sharp around the fireplace, desperate to distract her keen mind away from Fantasy Land and the ever increasing desire to say _'fuck it all'_ and pounce on him. 

"Gotta bit of peace and quiet for all of ten minutes, before she starts goin' on about what wall she's knockin' down next....How she thinks she should get more surgery once the place is done up too." he shook his head angrily. "She's not even finished signin' the Goddamn cheques for this remodellin' bullshit and she's already lookin' to spendin' more money on shit she don't need." 

"If Amanda feels she needs it, then it's important to her."

"She's had that much chopped and changed, I'm not sure I'm gonna recognize her if she goes under the knife again."  
"Some guys like that. It's like having a new wife." she suggested. Hoping to somehow counteract the ever apparent contempt he had for the woman he married.

"It would be, if she could get surgery on her personality." 

She cut him a disapproving look. "That's harsh." she scolded. 

"True though." he declared. 

"You married her. You must have liked her personality when you met." 

"You can't judge someone's personality while they're on a stripper pole." he mused. His comment was loaded but she knew it was best to steer away from that rabbit hole, given the time and the place. 

"How are the kids?" she deflected. Not sure how to handle all his negativity for his wife while she felt so terribly vulnerable and unusually exposed. All which made it hard to resist the temptation to tell him what he clearly wanted to hear, from someone other than the voice in his own head. 

He blew out a sharp, exasperated breath. Trying to bring back all the events that had aggravated him since the last time they'd spoken about his life at length, over two weeks earlier. 

"Tracey showed up this mornin'. Askin' for money to go off on tour with that prick drummer she's shacked up with." he grumbled. 

"Oh?" 

"She ain't gettin' shit outta me." he told passionately. "That asshole disappearin' round the world for a year would be the best thing for her." 

"To you, maybe." Cassidy pointed out and Michael's eyes hardened. "It might be something she really wants to do...and besides, traveling broadens horizons."

"But hangin' out with crack heads and roadies doesn't." he retorted. "If she wants to do that shit, she's gonna have to get a job and save up her self. I ain't havin' her windin' up stranded in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere because she found him bangin' a groupie. Fuck that."

Cassidy smiled to herself; she knew that underneath all his harsh words and selfish actions he actually cared a great deal about the welfare of his children. 

"And Jimmy's joined some fuckin' gamer nerd circle-jerk." he continued, complaints lining up to run free from his mouth. "Keeps takin' the damn car too, disappearin' off to these 'gatherings'." 

"It's good that he's getting out of the house though? Making friends." she encouraged, but Michael didn't react. " _Right?_ " 

"Yeah. Of course." he agreed with a wave of his hand, reluctance clear in his tone. "I just wish he'd grow the fuck up and spend as much time dickin' around playin' games on making somethin' of himself." 

"He'll get there." she assured. 

"He's twenty years old, for fuck sake." Michael bitched. "You know, you could justify him being like he is when he was sixteen...but when I was his age, I'd been in prison twice. I'd knocked over a dozen liquor stores, sold drugs, ran whores, and robbed more people than I could keep count of..."

She cut in. "But you don't want him following your example."

"No. Fuck no!" he exclaimed, bending to reload the paint roller. "But...I want better for him. If I wanted him to waste his fuckin' life, I would have stayed in the mid-west." he growled, all the frustrations he'd been bottling up were leaking out more and more with each word. "I betrayed so many people to give him a chance, and all these opportunities, but he pisses it away..." he straightened up again and resumed painting; his shoulders feeling the familiar heaviness lightening a little with each word he vented. 

"The same could be said about you...." she gave. 

"...'Scuse me?" Michael stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her, his anger suddenly alerted. 

"You didn't _have to_ take up a life of crime. You could have got a _proper_ job." she explained, delicately. 

"I did what I had to do." he snapped, trying not to let anger break through its restraints and flood into his veins. "I didn't sit on my ass waitin' for the world to fall in my lap, I went out there and took it." he defended, gesticulating passionately again. Looking at her with eyes that threatened anger, but she didn't seem scared, nor did she seem willing to yield to him. "The problem with him is no one's lit a fire under his ass." he continued bitterly. "He doesn't have to do nothin' because he's already got everythin'! I had nothin'! Everythin' I got I worked for."

Cassidy tried to bite her tongue, leave him to his own justifications, but she couldn't do it. The spotlight she felt herself under had burnt away the tatters of her professionalism, making it near impossible to hold back her true nature. "Depends on your definition of work, I suppose." she said outright. 

"Whut?" he snapped, getting increasingly more annoyed with the new attitude she seemed to be exhibiting, now that she wasn't hiding behind high heels and glasses. 

"What you did....the stealing. That's not _earning_ money, it's _acquiring_ it." she told him adamantly and he glared at her, not liking the tone she was taking, but his anger somehow stayed idle long enough for her to explain herself. "It was a quick fix..." she continued. "You didn't have to start at the bottom of a ladder and work your way up...You skipped five or six rungs and made a break for the top." she explained, sensing she was pushing his buttons, but she had a point to make him see. "Jimmy lives in a completely different world than you did...Starting at the bottom is daunting for anyone, especially when you've lived a privileged life. You had to take your shortcuts to get what you wanted, because you needed to better your situation, but Jimmy's situation is already as good as it gets." 

He couldn't deny she had a fair point, but that in itself pissed him off. Who was she to belittle the struggles and sacrifices he'd gone through? 

"There ain't no shortcuts in this game, baby!" he bit sourly. "My life was on the line every time I pulled on a ski-mask." his anger showed in the way his hands stabbed at the air. His body filling rapidly with the urge to pace the room, or worse - grab her, slam her against the nearest viable surface and fuck some Goddamn respect into her. 

"I don't doubt that." she said firmly, squaring herself off against him, lifting her chin to show she would defend her point of view. "I _completely_ understand what it cost you to do those things." she told, the deeper hidden meaning of her words was lost against his simmering anger. "...But what I'm saying is you had a goal, and you sprinted there quick as you could. Jimmy's got a bunch of personal obstacles to overcome. It's like he's facing a marathon which he doesn't feel like he has to run it because someone's already driving him to the Goddamn finish line." 

Michael opened his mouth to jump down her throat, but he was taken aback by her defensiveness, and even more by how what she said actually made sense. It was what he'd always known inside, but hearing someone say it out loud took him a little off guard. 

He felt his anger shift back into neutral and even though he was uncertain if he liked the new fully combative attitude she seemed to have developed, he couldn't find any anger to throw at her. Not when she'd hit the nail on the head so accurately. 

A silence fell between them for a beat, their eyes locked on each other as their emotions calmed. If she was anyone else, he would have already been looking for things to throw - namely his fists. However, somewhere within him he'd developed an odd sense of respect for her and the opinions she held, but he wasn't going to admit it. 

"Gotta say, Doc. I didn't expect you to be breakin' my balls like this." he gave a little cautiously, testing her reaction. 

She shrugged; for a moment not considering the damage she was doing to their relationship by being so argumentative. Not realizing that she was subconsciously only doing it to try and push him away. Fearing that he was already too close, and she was adrift on an ocean of trouble. 

"Yeah? _Well_. This is whatchya get when you creep into my house on a Saturday afternoon." she retorted impulsively. 

A little smile played at the corners of his lips, the faint Liberty City accent she tried so hard to hide during their sessions was breaking through amidst her defiance. 

"I didn't creep." he protested. "Your door was open." 

"You cudda knocked!" she bit. 

"You wouldn't have heard me over the music." he shot back, defensively. "You were too busy havin' your own little dance party." he was trying to find a scowl to give her, but instead he almost started to laugh. Remembering how she looked when he found her, faintly amused by how they were now bickering. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's my day off."

"Well I wouldn't have come over here if I thought you were gonna push my Goddamn buttons." 

She opened her mouth to fire a defensive shot back, but she stopped herself. She'd let her true self out into the light in front of him and it was wrong. She was his therapist and she needed to act like it. 

"I didn't mean to do that." she said softly, not wanting to apologise for being herself but needing to show some regret for provoking his anger. She needed to patch things up between them before the boat they were in sank and ruined their doctor-patient relationship completely. 

"Is this the real you?" he asked curiously. Feeling kind of relieved that her fire was back in full force. She had seemed so muted in their last session, so by-the-book. 

She looked at him blankly, unsure how to answer. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're mostly kinda meek and mild on the clock. Controlled. Not now though." he mused; having been trying to figure her out since they met. "You're a bit of a pistol underneath that business wear, huh?" she instantly took her eyes off his hating how easily he saw inside her. "I knew you were a dark horse. _Feisty_." he smirked; finding the way she stood up to him so well oddly appealing. 

She glanced down, searching the floor for a clue on how to handle the situation. She knew she was being horribly unprofessional, but he'd caught her off guard. The fact that he'd read her like a book, and seemed to enjoy what he found, only served to rattle her at her very core. 

She _did_ hide behind the smart clothes and glasses. She used her job as a way to escape herself and she never intended for a patient to see behind the mask, but there he was. Standing there in her living room again, looking as handsome as the day was long. Saying things that triggered deeply buried parts of herself; her aggression and defiance. His eyes urging her her to reveal more of her true self to him than she otherwise would have dared. 

"I'm being unprofessional, I'm sorry." she offered, worried it was too late to rectify the damage caused. Uncertain if she wanted to push him further away or bring him ever closer. 

Michael smiled softly. "Don't apologize." he forgave. "I know I put you in a spot showin' up like this." he admitted. "But I kinda like this side of you. It's almost come out a couple of times before, hasn't it?" he asked rhetorically, they both knew that was true. She looked away from him troubled by how, even despite her best efforts to be detached and professional with him, she'd shown herself to him anyway. 

"You're definitely more fun than ole Pube-Head anyways." he teased. 

Laughter took her spontaneously, and she chuckled softly, feeling the hint of a blush in her cheeks. "I'll take that as a compliment." 

"Good." 

They stood looking at each other for a moment, both smiling softly, searching their heads for something to say. Each finding their mind focusing far too much on the way the other looked. The flirty sparkle Michael held in his eyes, his mind trying desperately to fight off all the lusty thoughts he was having. As she fought away her inner urges, that longed to let him in. Desires that screamed out in favour of throwing caution to the wind, while she scrambled internally against it to snatch up what little she had left of her professionalism. 

Afraid of where things could go between them, she broke their eye lock and turned back to the wall and started to paint again, allowing him an opening to make his exit if he wanted to walk away. 

"Anyway..." he said feeling the need to fill the silence, mirroring her return to the job at hand. "Jimmy is gonna find his ass on the street if he don't straighten up and fly right." 

Cassidy shook her head softly. "You wouldn't do that to him. Despite everything, you love him. You'd miss him if he moved out." 

Michael moved his mouth to speak again, but held back. She was right, _again_. He did love his son, he just didn't like him very much. He liked being alone even less though, and deep down he'd take the fights and the constant irritations just to know someone was around. That he wasn't left alone with nothing but the zeros in his bank account and a big house that was dead without a family inside it. 

"This laziness is just his way of rebelling, you know?" she suggested. 

"You think?" 

"Yeah. I think so." she nodded. "It could be much worse too." 

"How?" he exclaimed. 

She hesitated, her eyes clouding for a beat, suggesting she had some kind of story to tell, and example of how she knew plenty about rebellion first hand, but she swept it away. "...Well, he could be trying to follow _your_ path..." 

Michael felt the pull inside him again, the one that was becoming ever more familiar. The one that said she knew far more about his troubles than she would ever outwardly reveal as his therapist, He sighed; frustrated by knowing how to draw her secrets out but he looked beyond it to offer her a response. "Christ. _Yeah._ Don't even joke about that." he chuckled emptily. 

A silence fell upon them for a few moments as they painted. Each of them searching for something else to say, another topic or direction to go in. Unsure which direction to move in together after everything that had transpired. 

The quiet made Cassidy become acutely aware of how she'd screwed things up and that it was now only a matter of time before he rejected her as his therapist. She'd shown him that underneath the understanding and supportive face she wore at work, she had opinions. _Strong opinions._ Ones she'd tried to restrain or voice only when they could be put into context during their sessions, but there in her home - the place she had tried to protect from him- it was much harder to hold back and truly dilute herself for his consumption. 

She believed he wasn't going to like the strength she held under her unassuming, agreeable disguise. She wasn't the woman he thought she was and as appealing as he claimed to find her feisty true nature, it would surely grow old for him, really fast, if he saw too much of it. 

She felt horribly on edge, the voices of her teachers coming into her head, telling her how she was ruining everything and lost the professional distance she'd struggled to build up and hold in place. 

Her throat tightened and dried up as the silence in her ears bought a wealth of troubling thoughts to her mind. "You want a beer?" she asked out, knowing it wasn't appropriate to be giving a patient alcohol, but she desperately needed a drink and a way to put some physical distance between them. 

"Yeah, that'd be good." Michael nodded. 

She quickly put down her paintbrush and hurried over to the kitchen. Throwing open the fridge door and letting the cold air soothe her reddened face. She took a few moments to breathe deeply, to calm herself. Trying to round up all the feelings ruining riot in her and usher them back into their correct and lockable boxes. 

She was suddenly aware of someone watching her again and she looked over her shoulder and saw that Michael was standing on the other side of the kitchen counter that split the room into two different area, looking at her expectantly. 

She then remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and quickly grabbed two bottles of beer and closed the fridge. She moved over to him and passed over one of the cold bottles, together in time they cracked them open and knocked back a heavy gulp. 

Michael's eyes found her again, as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her breathing slightly ragged, against the cold blast of fizzy beer. Heat blasted through him, moving straight to his core as he watched. Focused on her chest rising and falling raggedly, and how her full lips looked flushed, as if she'd just been kissed passionately. 

She didn't need her degree in psychology or a certification in understanding body language to know exactly where his mind was. It was written all over his face. He was imaging doing unspeakable things to her and the very idea of what was in his mind made a warm shiver run through her. 

A slight smile crossed his lips, sensing she was feeling exactly the same way as him. Only she was more uncomfortable about it. She wasn't yet willing to embrace the urges the way he was and he guessed that was a good thing. 

If she encouraged him, there would be no holding him back. Everything he'd promised Amanda would be ruined, and he wasn't completely certain if he was really ready to set fire to that part of his life, once and for all. He knew that despite everything, he did still care about his wife, but he wasn't in love with her, not anymore. Lately he'd been starting to wonder if he actually ever had been. 

He took another draw from the beer bottle and decided to cut his therapist a little slack. Looking for a thread he could pull into a conversation to avoid awkwardness. 

"I like your tat." he gave nodding to her forearm. Where a highly decorative arrow was drawn with delicate swirling patterns in the background, all shaded in blacks and greys. 

At that moment, she'd almost forgotten she had one, and looked to where his eyes were. "Thanks..." she forced out. Her mind fuzzy with everything that had happened between them, the raw emotions and swirling clouds of chemistry. 

He'd hoped she'd offer to show him the other one on her side, but he could see the look on her face said she could hardly remember her own name. "I....I..." she stumbled. "I imagined you to have some." she said, knocking back some more beer. 

Michael smiled inside at the mere idea of her picturing him. His eyes fixated on the way her full lips caressed the mouth of the bottle. His thoughts drifting to dark places with the imagery. 

"Who said I don't." he teased. 

He was standing before her in a tank top and jeans. His strong, muscular arms and a portion of his broad chest exposed, making her mind wonder where on earth he had ink, if any at all. She opened her mouth to speak again, but the chirping of a cell phone cut through the moment. 

"Aw shit!" he hissed bitterly, putting down the bottle and reaching into his jeans pocket to retrieve his phone. He looked at the screen and sighed, moving away from the kitchen counter and over towards the patio doors. "Yeah?" he answered as Cassidy watched on, curiosity masking her disappointment. "... _What?_....Aw fuck! A'right. I'm on my way." he hung up and turned back to her. "I gotta go."

A weight instantly fell from her shoulders. "Trouble in paradise?" she joked. 

"You have no idea." he groaned. Stuffing the phone back into his pocket before moving over to the couch and putting his shirt back on again. His mind was racing with the drama he'd just been informed of, and he headed quickly to the door, realizing as he stepped through it that he was abandoning her. 

He stopped short, and turned back to look at her. Even from across the room he could see that he big blue eyes were wide; curious about what was dragging him away and perhaps somewhat dejected by the way he was ditching her after causing such a storm in her head. 

"I'll see ya on Thursday. Thanks, Doc." he smiled softly. Hoping she'd see how grateful he was to her for not kicking him out on his ass, as he focused in on her to take a mental picture of how effortlessly sexy she looked. 

"You're welcome." she smiled softly, an unwelcome sense of disappointment flooding in. "Ring the buzzer next time though, okay?" she teased. 

The chaos in his head paused for a moment - _'next time'_. He liked the idea of that. 

"Will do." he nodded, and with that he was gone. Off to face his own storm, and leaving her to pick up the pieces of the hurricane of emotions he'd bought into her living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope this chapter was worth waiting for. As always, I'm super eager to hear your thoughts and hope you enjoyed the read!


	10. At The Office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to everyone who left a show of support on the last chapter, it was such a relief to know you guys enjoyed it so much! Your continued feedback and encouragement means so much to me and is really helping my creative process. 
> 
> Yet again, this was originally one big long chapter but I figured twenty friggin' pages was a bit much or one sitting, so I chopped it up. Chapter eleven and twelve are pretty intense and are fairly pivotal to the plot, while this chapter is kind of a transitionary one with some foreshadowing of sorts. I hope you enjoy it, and bear with me while I try to make the next couple of chapters the best they can be. Enjoy!

I know how to wear the costume  
I know how to wear the mask  
I even like the feel of having to ask  
I like the sound of your whistle  
I like the way you wear your grin  
I even like the taste of my will caving in  
I'm not a junkie for your love  
**\-- Junkie by Poe**  


In the days after Michael had appeared in her living room uninvited, Cassidy had found it difficult to put herself back together. Struggling to regain control over the way her mind ran away from her; disappearing into fantasies of what could have been if they'd had more time together. Battling with over analysing everything that had happened, every mistake she'd made. Worrying about the potential possibilities and effects their encounter could have on their future relationship. All while struggling to keep afloat against the waves of embarrassment that returned to her in the silences between mentally chastising herself for all she'd allow to happen. The mess of conflicting emotions were impossible to sort her way through, and all seemed to congeal together to fill her with a heavy sense of regret and an unsettling amount of guilt, for a dozen different reasons. 

Worst of all, she wanted to feel angry at Michael for showing up like he did, and she tried so hard to find rage within her for how he'd caught her completely off guard. Sneaking into her living room like a wolf and unknowingly forcing her to show him more of her true self than she ever had before, more than she'd ever intended for him to see. She knew anger was the right emotion to have over the whole situation, but each time she came close to feeling that way another emotion, something positive and confusing seemed to snatch her back from the edge. She had no doubt that everything she was feeling was bad news for her role has his therapist. All that had been said and done, all that had been felt, was bound affect their professional relationship. Nothing more so that the way they had looked at each other; the undeniable lust she saw in his eyes, which had been as unnerving as it was appealing. 

Despite little training on how to handle such a situation, she was well aware that it wasn't unheard of for a patient to develop feelings for their therapist. She also knew it could work both ways, but she refused to admit that she was becoming a statistic in that category. She had to believe she was stronger than that, find some way convince herself that he didn't have such an influence over her. Put it down to just being confused and reading the signs all wrong. She had to try to stop herself sliding down the rabbit hole he was beckoning her down, even if it meant lying to herself.

She had worked incredibly hard to become a doctor and make something out of the ashes of her former life, she couldn't allow herself to submit to feelings for someone like him. A criminal, a murder, a married man and father - _a patient_. A man who'd strutted into her life and thrown all she thought she was into some kind of chaos with the feelings he stirred up inside her. Chipping away at her walls so heavy handedly, causing her to hopelessly expose her inner-self to him. Effortlessly cracking the masquerade she'd managed to easily live under for years. 

She wasn't sure how she was going to face him again. Her confidence had been knocked just by knowing that he'd seen some of what she was beneath the smart clothes, heels and red lipstick. She felt embarrassed to remember how he'd caught her lost in her own world, which had shown him she existed as more than just the shoulder he came to cry on. 

She would have to try with all her might to be completely professional with him, regardless of the setting they were in. She had to make sure she didn't let the walls around herself crumble under his persuasion again, especially not during an official therapy session. It had to be strictly business, she couldn't afford to be anything but aloof and focused with him now - for both their sakes. If they began to push one another's buttons again, there was no telling where things would end up.

Despite her anxiety over the possibilities of their forthcoming session, she'd somehow managed to convinced herself that all was not lost. As long as she hadn't given him reason to dislike her after she's shown a glimpse of her true attitude to him, they could repair the damage done. She could bolster her defences again and keep him from getting back in under her skin. She could control herself in the face of adversity, she'd done it before, she could handle his case and everything she thought she felt for him because of it. 

In order to control the situation with him, she'd decided she needed to keep him firmly back at arm's length and not give him any mixed messages. Avoid doing anything that might give him an idea or hope for them ever being anything more than doctor and patient. 

If she was going to help him in anyway, she would have to carefully put a divider between them that would show she still cared enough to help him, but delicately made it clear he wasn't going to be a part of her life beyond the hour spent together in her office. 

On Thursday morning she headed into the city earlier than her appointment book required of her. With the ghost of _him_ echoing around the walls of her home, she'd discovered that her new office was in fact a welcome place to escape to. Somewhere that her mind seemed to silence itself a little, helping her enter the right mindset and giving her enough clarity to focus on her professional goals. An insulation of sorts, from both herself and the influences of Michael De Santa.

She had hoped to spend an hour or so getting on top of some paperwork, feeling sure that would numb her insides well enough to switch her into the right setting and ensure she could deal with Michael correctly when he arrived for his session. 

However, her office sanctuary wasn't without its own problems. Almost as soon as she'd stepped out of the elevator and walked over to collect her messages from her floors reception desk, she was collared by one of the therapists she shared the building with. 

The particular one in question was an older, somewhat peculiar and overbearing man. Tall and willowy with thinning silver hair and round glasses. She had barely spoken with him more than a handful of times since working out of her office, but whenever she'd seen him he always seemed to be wearing the same outfit - brown corduroy pants and a sage green waist coat over a cream dress shirt. 

She'd been close enough to him on one occasion to note how he smelled like old books and coffee breath. He always seemed to have some kind of agenda whenever he approached her, which made her do the utmost to avoid him as often as possible. That morning however, he seemed to have been lying in wait for her arrival and was particularly determined to dominate her attentions for as long as it took to give her the hard sell. 

It took only moments for him to start with his long winded attempt to convince her into joining forces with a couple of other independent therapists in the building, with the hopes of establishing their own clinic. Despite his indirect approach to the facts, Cassidy quickly deduced that the whole thing was purely a money making scheme and she wasn't keen to get caught up in it. 

She made a point to steer clear of overly complicated relationships and professional involvements. Truth was, she usually preferred to keep to herself, especially when it came to people in her own field. Knowing that her colleagues often has a habit of prying or trying to analyse the personality and behaviours of others around them.

Despite Geoffrey's profession calling for a touch of perception, he couldn't seem to take the hint that his waffled sales pitch was falling on deaf ears. Yet the harder Cassidy tried to make a getaway, the more Geoffrey somehow found something else to say; a different angle to try roping her in from. 

"I'm really not sure I'm the right person..." she resisted for the fourth or fifth time, trying her best remain polite despite the bitter voice in her head. One which had been bitterly cussing out the older man from the moment he'd dodged her first attempted to escape him.

She didn't want to commit to anything that was going to force her into awkward, unsolicited, social situations. Particularly with people who, by nature, liked to ask all the wrong kinds of questions. She did fine with superficial interactions to fill her social quotas; chit-chat with neighbours and local beach bums, fellow students in her Spanish evening class. Even a little gossip with the overzealous gym bunnies in her various fitness classes, but any time someone tried to delve beneath the surface - she fled. 

Working too closely with her new colleagues was a slippery slope into personal exposure, judgements and pressures that she didn't need. It was far safer for her to stick to the casual chats in the elevator, and the polite nods in the foyer and car park. She didn't want to risk someone scratching through her pleasant surface, knowing it could causing all the deep dark secrets to come spilling out over the clean start she'd bought for herself. 

"Oh nonsense." Geoffrey chirped. "You're exactly what we need. And you'd be perfect on our clinical committee too. We need a fresh pair of eyes. A new broom sweeps clean." 

Cassidy swallowed on a throat full of bitterness and filled her mouth with as much civility as she could manage. "I'm not really the sweeping kind." she offered, but the delicate 'no' she was trying to send out to him wasn't hitting the target. 

Outside of her professional setting, she had never been a shrinking violet. She didn't take things lying down and had a history of being assertive to the point aggression when provoked. It was something she thought she'd managed to learn how to control over the years, but as Geoffrey kept talking that long subdued side of herself began to try and surface. An itch that demanded to be scratched more and more with each word from his instant mouth. A devil on her shoulder that filled her head with an idea to blow up and tell him more than firmly, to back the hell off. 

"You know?" he asked. "Practicing as a clinic will bring so many benefits and if we can get this network up and running-" 

She cut him off with a lie. "I don't really have the time."

Truth was, she had plenty of time, aside from some hobbies she'd taken up, life was pretty empty for her, but that was how she wanted it. She was happy by herself, with her head down, keeping out of the spotlight. It was the way things had to be, for her own comfort and long term security. 

She'd learned to enjoy her own company more and more over the years, knowing it was far easier to rely on herself than risk letting anyone else in. Someone who asked the questions she didn't have answers for, or got too close and say the seam in the mask she wore. It felt so much safer to be alone, to avoid difficulties and pain, rather than make connections only to wind up getting hurt again. Keeping a somewhat unhealthy distance from the people who passed through her life, all in the name of self preservation. 

"Oh of course you do! The committee will only take up an hour or so a month and once the clinic is up and running there will be nothing to it." 

Cassidy swallowed a sigh that boarded on a growl; silently hoping that the elevator ping had she just heard behind her would bring another piece of pray to the floor. She needed help, some kind of distract for her overenthusiastic colleague. Something to prevent her putting her foot down, _very_ firmly. 

"Can you give me some time to-" she stopped short, feeling a familiar presence draw up besides her. 

She turned her head and to her delight she found the vision of Michael standing beside her, almost as if he'd seen her put up the Bat Signal to call for his help. 

Her lungs filled with a sigh of relief, but it was quickly eclipsed by a sense of dread. She wasn't ready to see him! What was he doing there so soon? _Why the hell was he early?_ How the hell did he keep managing to catch her out? 

"Hey Doc." he greeted warmly, giving the tall, studious looking man she had been speaking to the once over. 

"Michael! You're early." she almost gasped. Not in the least bit prepared for his presence and concerned for what had caused his apparent eagerness to visit her. 

He looked uneasy speaking in front of the strange face, but did so anyway. "Only about ten minutes." he clarified; frowning at the expression on her face that said time had obviously run away from her. 

Cassidy immediately slapped down the odd flurry of fluster and panic that had swelled up in his presence, and silently gathered herself. "I didn't realize the time." she said more to herself than either of the two men near her. 

She was still feeling deeply apprehensive about meeting with him, but somehow having him show up sooner than anticipated was a welcome relief. Thankful to his promptness for getting her out of Geoffrey's crosshairs before the time-bomb inside her went off. 

She turned back to her colleague and politely excused herself. "I'll have to think about it and catch up with you later." she offered emptily, making a mental note to do all she possibly could to avoid him in future. 

The man nodded curtly, eyeing Michael up and down for the third time since he'd appeared, before floating off back in the direction of his own office. 

Cassidy quickly gathered up her post and messages from the reception counter and crouched to pick up her bag. Taking a moment to inhale deeply and insist that neither her nerves, nor her true self, would get the better of her now _he_ was there. 

"Follow me." she offered warmly, standing up straight and stepping in front of Michael to lead the way across the foyer to her office. 

Michael did as instructed and followed a couple of feet behind her, his eyes again drawn to her shapely ass, hugged by her snug fitting black pants. His mind casting back to that Saturday, thinking of her in those demin cutt-offs for the millionth time since he'd left her. As he followed, shamelessly ogling her, he couldn't help but notice she was wearing a pair of black and white canvas sneakers on her feet rather than her usual high heels. He didn't understand why, but it amused him. It was an obvious sign that he'd caught her off guard again, and he enjoyed that far more than he knew was acceptable. 

All he'd been able to think about since being with her on Saturday was how natural she'd been. The things he'd seen her doing and the energy between them, all the delicious sexual tension. Reliving the way she danced and how she was dressed. Remembering how he felt from the way she'd stood up to him, how it fired him in and turned him on in equal parts. 

He knew it had been wrong to show up on her doorstep like he had, but it was something he needed to do. He had been going crazy after the detached way she'd handled him in their last session, but by invading her personal life she'd shown him that their unique dynamic was still strong, and held much promise. That alone had given him a strange sense of hope, which he didn't realize he needed so badly. It had helped so much in the days between seeing her, giving him a mental escape which in turn had helped him survive the stressful times he was living in.

Of course, the best distraction came in fantasising about what might have happened if his phone hadn't gone off. Imagining what it would be like to have her dance for him the way she did; how magical it would have been to throw caution to the wind and take her right there in her living room. It was such sweet torture to be left with so many new images and dreams to enjoy, but it had been the perfect remedy amidst the current torment of his life. It all offered him a dreamland that stole him away from the ugly fights and struggles that infected his life, which seemed to have reached an all time high in recent days. 

Reaching the waiting area outside her office, Cassidy shyly glanced over her shoulder at him as she fumbled with her keys to unlock the door. Silently wishing he wasn't standing so close behind her; close enough for her to feel his body heat. Making her worry that he could reach out and grab her at any moment. 

The smell of his cologne and the ghostly scent of a recently smoked cigarette was drifting off him and dancing around her nose, causing a warm shiver to race up her back and trigger the war inside her into take up arms again. Her body craving his touch, almost silently begging him to reach out and caress her as her mind protested the very thought. 

The door handle gave and she burst unceremoniously through it into the cool dark office. Feeling a wave of relief hit instantly as she was able to put some distance between their two bodies. Quickly gathering herself and hurrying over to the far wall and flicking on the overhead lights, while Michael casually followed her in and closed to door behind him. Standing in place and watching her closely while she tossed her bag onto the chair behind her desk, and then made a move for one of two doors to his right. 

"Take a seat." she insisted, avoiding making eye contact with him until she had her full shield in place. He had already decided to stay put, not just to challenge her a little but because he was far too curious to give up his vantage point. His eyes were fixed to her as she quickly she popped a door open and ducked into a small room, which was revealed to be a bathroom. 

He frowned wondering what she was up to, but his expression softened into a smile as he observed her hurrying to kick off her sneakers, and slipping her feet into a pair of waiting black heels. The tools which she hoped would help her find the professional demeanour she liked to hide behind. 

Michael felt a chuckle filling his chest; it was obvious she was grasping at anything to support her confidence. He knew he'd rattled her at the weekend and it was cruel to find amusement from it, but he couldn't help himself. He liked what he saw from her in private, seeing how she really was when her protective layers were stripped away was worth all the money he had in the bank. Seeing yet another kink in her armour seemed to please him even more, and gave him hope that even in her office, he would be able to find some way to tap back into what she'd revealed to him against the backdrop of her home. 

Now fully dressed as Dr. Nardovino, Cassidy made a move back into the office and closed the door behind her. Taking a few unsteady steps as she adjusted to the heels beneath her feet. Michael silently chuckled to himself, enjoying baring witness to yet another flaw in her otherwise perfectly composed professional appearance. 

"What's the deal with the shoes?" he asked, his voice light and humoured. 

She cast a brief look to him, the same look she always gave him when he got off the topic of his therapy. "I have a lot of skills Michael, but driving in heels isn't one of them." she told him firmly and set off back across the room to her desk. 

He chuckled deeply, noting the slight wobble in her ankles as she stepped from the wooden floor to the centered rug, and back onto the wood again. He got a kick out of seeing her facade slip, especially while they were in her office. He had to admire her for trying to be a good therapist but the truth was he'd found less than an hour with her as Cassidy, not his dutiful doctor, had seemed to help more than all their therapy sessions so far combined.

He watched her for a few more moments, before deciding to give up his view against the office door, and making his way to the middle of the room where the seating area awaited him. Taking his usual seat in the middle of the couch, while she quickly gather up her trusty shield in the form of her notepad and glasses. 

Busying herself for a moment or two, Dr. Nardovino quietly considered the causes for his early arrival. He seemed to be in a good mood, but she knew that despite his outwardly pleasant attitude, it was possible he could confront her about what happened between them at the weekend. She had prepared herself to handle things on a professional level, but now he was actually there in the room with her, looking at handsome and appealing as he did, she wasn't convinced she could correctly field any issues of a more personal nature. 

He'd tested her in so many ways since they'd met, making keeping afloat around him harder every time she saw him. She knew there were no excuses or justification for failing in her professional duties, time and time again but everything about him made her feel conflicted and confused. After everything that had happened, everything that had been spoken and unspoken, she couldn't be certain her composure would hold if he lead her down the proverbial garden path again.

What made matters worse was knowing that he been in the wrong just as much as she had, showing up on her doorstep like he did fully aware that it wasn't appropriate for him to do so. That knowledge would only serve to full her fires if he chose to stoked them. She'd just have to hope that everything she was feeling didn't break the dam she'd formed inside herself, as she knew everything she held back had the capacity to drown them both. 

"So what's going on?" Dr Nardovino asked, doing her best to be completely confident as she took her seat. Slipping on her glasses and crossing her legs at the knee. Taking the first proper opportunity she had to fully absorb his appearance. 

He was looking especially handsome, dressed casually again in smart dark jeans and earthy brown boots and a black polo shirt. Concentrating on him, even for the briefest of moments, made a warmth swell in her center, but she couldn't allow for those kinds of reactions. Practising the self control techniques she preached about, she pulled her eyes off him and focused her thoughts to something less flammable; resisting the urge fidget with frustration as she tumbled through her notepad. 

She found the page which they'd left off on, and took a deep breath. Firmly telling herself to relax and ignore the light tingling that was building in her veins. Her attraction to him was a serious danger to them both, particularly if they entered into the same territory they'd found themselves lost in at her house. There was a very real possibility that their meeting could take a turn for the worse, if he picked at the scratches he'd left on her at the weekend. 

Michael blew out the sigh he'd held in while pondering her question, contemplating where exactly to start with getting to the root of all that had happened in the past days since he'd last seen her. After leaving her so abruptly on Saturday afternoon he'd found himself attacked and pressured in more ways than one. Bitter fights at home and demands from his various endeavours where really wearing him down. Making him start to long for some kind of real escape; somewhere to hide away from the things that threatened to make him snap. 

He'd been dying to talk with Cassidy again. Feeling excited and inspired by the way she had behaved with him at her house. How she'd effortlessly proven to him that she was still the same person he'd originally felt drawn too. Showing him that all the chemistry was still alive and well beneath the surface of her practised facade. 

The strength he'd seen in her filled his mind with a mass of fresh fantasies. Fantasies that helped him easily detach from his real life and recharge him well enough to survive when his biggest problems came gunning for him. However, once those fantasies were put to one side the problems in his life were unfortunately still there waiting for him. Ready to savagely beat down any progress he felt he may have made during his mental respite with visions of her. 

He had much to get off his chest but, but as often was the case, he wasn't quite ready to open up. Unsure where to even begin explaining the thoughts and troubles in his head, and feeling the mood wasn't yet right for him to begin his complaining, but instead perhaps offered the chance to torment her a little. 

Before he let her do her job properly, he wanted to test the waters. Toy with her a little just to see if she was she was willing to show the spirited young woman he'd left in her living room on Saturday, or if she'd reverted back to her default setting - the coolly detached professional he'd sat with in her office the last time he was there. 

"Who was the old dude out there?" he asked outright, finding no better place to start his games. He kept focus on her face, which remained expressionless but her eyes flashed a show hostility that made him smile internally. 

_Yep!_ She was still in there. 

"A colleague." she told flatly, biting back the urge to tell him, yet again, that they were not they to discuss her business. 

"Was he botherin' you..." 

"Why? You gunna offer to clip him for me?" she asked impulsively, her true nature and cadence making a bolt for freedom once again, before she bit down hard on her own foolish tongue.

Michael laughed deeply and relaxed back into the couch. An odd sense of comfort came from seeing that the side of her which he enjoyed the most was still there, despite being so well disguised. "I wasn't gonna suggest it," he replied with a gesture of his hands. "...But you know, if it's somethin' you need-" she cut in. 

"It's not." she said firmly. "And we need to stop talking about me, and focus on you." and with that she clicked her pen into action and changed her posture. Assertive; determined. Ready to take none of his shit. 

His eyes hooded a little as he took her all in. Everything about the way she looked, how she dressed. The command she had over her attitude and the air of control she held over him. The split personality - _especially_ the split personality- made him want to dive across the table and take her right there. On the floor, or on the desk, or against the fucking office door - he didn't care! He just wanted to dive right into her, forget his troubles and never come up for air again. 

"So how come you're early today?" she asked out clearly, hoping the distant look in his eyes meant he was focusing on his own problems, not on thoughts of doing something terrible to, _or with_ , her. 

He blinked away the lusty thoughts and immediately felt the seal break on the sourness inside him. All the anger he'd been able to hold back with the luscious visions and sensations that had flooded into him with thoughts of them together, began to claw back control. God, he hated the knack she had for pulling him out of his head and back into the moment. 

He almost narrowed his eyes at her, irked by how effortlessly she'd shot him down and forced him to turn focus back on himself. He had been hoping that since their series of'moments at her house, she'd be more open to revealing herself to him and indulging in a little flirtation, or even more perhaps, but it seemed that the shrink uniform was bolstering up her defences again, a little too well. 

He knew he had to give her something. Guessing if he let her lead the conversation too quickly, she'd have him cutting into the deepest parts of his mind. Forcing him to look far deeper into himself than he ever wished to, just like she had the last time he was there. 

When he'd left her the office a week earlier, he'd felt oddly uneasy and burdened, troubled by all the things they'd discussed about his inner workings. That feeling had remained with him for a couple of days after, being the catalyst for him going to her home in the first place. Turning him almost resentful of her ability to make him look inwardly and question his own motives, the way he knew a therapist should. 

He needed therapy as a way to vent about the pressures of his life, not to be analysed and picked apart. Made to question what he truly wanted out of life and the ways in which he needed to change in order to achieve his goals. 

He didn't want to be avoidant and stir up her confrontational side as he had at her house, but he wasn't sure how well he could tolerate another session like their last official one. Talking about his nightmares and motivations had made his thoughts run too deep. She'd put too many questions in his head, and made the session too much about him and not enough about the other people in his life. The ones who he had no qualms in laying the blame for all his problems on. 

He stroked his chin contemplatively, as he wasn't sure why he was feeling so stalled. He had plenty of things he needed to get off his chest, things that had been stirred up inside him like a bellowing cloud of radioactive dust. 

He glanced over to her, taking in her pretty and encouraging blue eyes, that urged him to open up and tell her about all the arguments and struggles he'd encountered recently. She was ready and willing to listen and help him with all the problems he was struggling to overcome and avoid. An opportunity to unload and vent about all the bitterness that had been gathering in his head was finally there, the only question where the hell did he start unraveling it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I know it wasn't quite as intense as the last update, but I hope you enjoyed it. The next one is going to pretty heavy, as I'll be digging into a lot more of the events of the game and who Michael is as a character. 
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading!


	11. What A Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who showed love on the last chapter! You guys are awesome! 
> 
> So thanks to the chaos of having to travel again, and working three jobs at the moment, it's taken me longer to update than I hoped it would. For weeks I've been busily doing a lot of research on actual events/details from the game. Spending countless hours replaying a bunch of missions/hang-outs to milk all the info out of the game, to get all the facts to create Michael's diatribe in this chapter - as I want things to be as accurate/fact based as possible. I also came across some interesting "meta" (of sorts) regarding Michael and Amanda's relationship that I utilized to get to some of the nitty-gritty for why Michael is the way he is before and after we meet him. 
> 
> Anyways, I think you're either going to love or hate this chapter, but it's all leading somewhere, so I do hope you enjoy it!

Michael stretched out his neck and breathed in deep as he rummaged through his thoughts for a place to begin unloading in front of his therapist. She'd given him the chance to take the lead and he had to jump on it, knowing that another good rant about the pressures of his life was desperately needed. 

He finally had the opportunity he wanted to say all he needed about how shitty things were in his life, and how awful the people around him were. At her house a few days earlier he'd been able to offload a little, which had helped but since then things had become even more tense. He needed to vent, especially now he knew she could do little to put him in his place since she was back underneath her duty bound shrink guise. 

As he thought for the best place to start unravelling everything, he felt his eyes try to pull his mind away and over to Cassidy again. Making him focus in on the way she absentmindedly rolled her heeled foot around, and fiddled with her pen. Then to how pretty her eyes looked when framed by the black rims of her glasses, and finally how the way the light cotton of her blouse caressed all the appealing parts of her torso. The urge to hide himself away again in a lustful fantasy rapidly filled his mind, but somehow he found he was able to resist it. His troubles were coming too close to the surface to ignore. 

Thoughtfully he let his eyes drift from her and wander around the room for a moment, as if looking for a pointer on where to begin with vocalising all he'd been contemplating and chewing over for the past several days. 

It seemed that nothing had changed in the office since the week before, it was still beige. Still generic and void of her mark. A bright empty space that was waiting to be filled with the darkness of his problems. 

Dr. Nardovino fought hard to evade the impulse to hurry him along somehow; she had to let him start in his own time. If nothing else his hesitation at least gave her a moment to get a firm grip of herself and put her mind on the right track. It was a struggle to shut down the provocative thoughts she was having about the stubble around his jaw and how the short sleeves of his black polo shirt made his arms seem especially large and strong in that moment. 

She sighed internally, angry that her mind was trying to corrupt her again. She put her struggle to focus down to being caught off guard again by how he's shown up early and derailed her plans to prepare for his session, along with her colleague Geoffrey's help of course. She had hoped for some time to get into the right head space, to be ready to see him and deal with the issues he bought to her as professionally as possible. However, as was becoming a habit for him, he'd pounced when she least expected it and was most vulnerable to his influence. 

"Shit's getting real rough lately." he began confessing out into the stone silence. "Been a bad couple days..." he leaned forward a little, resting his forearms on his thighs and his head bowing as if in prayer. Letting all the pressures slowly creep back up on his shoulders, in the hopes of being able to share them with her. 

She swallowed the urge to ask _'again?'_ and remained professional. "How so?" 

He remained silent for a moment or two longer before speaking. "Usual kinda crap, I guess. Trevor showed up at the house last night and blew shit up with Amanda again..." he groaned on a sigh, relaxing back into the sofa again. "Been really startin' to think I need to get a new circle of friends, and a new family too." he joked hollowly. 

Somehow she already knew this would again be one of those sessions where he just ranted and raved about how awful everyone around him was. Preventing her from getting to the deeper issues that were buried within him; keeping her from addressing the root causes that needed to be acknowledged and healed in order to help him be the better person he supposedly wanted to be. 

However, she knew the only way to get to the deeper root causes was to let him clear away the problems he had with everyone else around him. Problems that seemed to blind him to his own faults at times.  
"What it is specifically that makes you feel like that?" 

Michael looked up at her, letting his eyes roam over her passionless _shrink_ face. Cassidy was in there somewhere, but the good doctor was not letting her out to play. 

" I dunno...." he shrugged. "Just seems like I'm surrounded by people who do all they can to fire me up and encourage me to do bad shit." his eyes seemed to suggest his remark was loaded. 

Dr. Nardovino felt an odd feeling swell in her stomach but she was unsure if it was fear, guilt, something else entirely, or a mix of everything possible. It was obvious he was indirectly getting at something, and she braced herself for the chastisement she'd been anticipating for the four days since she last saw him. 

_She_ was one of those people, and they both knew it. 

"Only you are responsible for your actions Michael, and for what you allow yourself to feel." she offered, cautiously. Concerned about where things were leading and what was being implying by them both. 

He almost growled, prepared for her to start the shrink-talk but still not welcoming it. He wanted the passionate young woman he'd bounced off in her living room, not the scripted shrink who evaded every play he made. 

"But what if you don't have a choice?" he asked grimly, thoughts returning to the _real_ sources of conflict in his life. 

"There's always a choice." 

"Not always." 

She instinctively went to speak again but closed her mouth, remaining silent. Resisting the urge to agree with him, _or worse_ \- give some kneejerk reaction that would spiral the session out of her control. She couldn't show negativity for his frame of mind by agreeing with him, even thought she did. It went against the purpose of his therapy to allow him to wallow and deny accountability for his actions; concurring with him would only serve to enable him. 

Not liking her refusal to react outwardly, but unsure of how to crack the topic open, he spoke up again. "Been thinkin' about some of what you said last time we were in here.... _you know_ , 'bout cuttin' ties to the past, not gettin' involved with bad people and situations...I mean I know I need some names on my contacts list who ain't criminals." 

She had already assumed that Michael had procrastinated on building a legitimate social circle because of his issues with self-loathing and the other assorted inadequacies Dr. Friedlander alleged -at great length- in his notes. "Have you made steps to make that happen?" she asked, with questioning eyebrows. 

"Yeah!" he replied impulsively, but quickly back peddled. "No. I guess not." he confessed on a shrug. Holding her eyes for a moment, as if waiting for her to take the lead again, but just as Friedlander had done, she kept quiet just long enough to make him feel the desperate urge to fill the silence by elaborating. "There's Franklin....this kid..." he continued. "He was part of my new crew, part of what got me back into the game I guess...and we go for a drink sometimes. He's great, but he's really tryin' to make somethin' of himself right now. Quit messin' with all this dangerous shit." 

"Sounds like he could be a good influence on you." 

"Yeah, I guess. But you know...he's young....he don't want a fat old fool like me hangin' around him all the time, bringin' him down." 

Dr. Nardovino felt an odd emotion stir in her gut. She'd read that he had a lot of self hatred but hearing him actually say those kind of words pinched at her. A voice inside her wanted to speak out and be heard; to tell him that he was none of those things, but she gagged it. Refusing to let herself invest emotionally or pander to him. 

"So what about other people?" 

His eyes dropped to the coffee table where he thought for a beat, repeating her question to himself. He'd often wondered why he didn't interact with the folks he encountered in the way he should, but he knew the answer and hadn't particularly wanted to acknowledge it before. Yet her digging -gentle as it was- made something in him awaken. A need to finally voice what he understood of himself; wondering maybe if she had a part of herself that would match his again. 

"I dunno...it's...." he stalled for a beat, feeling himself falling open for her again and he couldn't fight it. Not that he really wanted to. "I gues it's just easier not to get involved with new people...Like it's my kinda way of protectin' myself, _ya know?_ " he looked up to her and was instantly pulled in to the intense look in her eye. 

That same look she'd had a week earlier when he'd mentioned his trouble sleeping. The look that said she understood his words on a level that ran deep inside her, deeper than she could ever risk revealing to anyone, especially him during _his_ sessions. 

"I understand." she nodded as she broke eye contact. Knowing just by the look on his face that he was seeing inside her head again. Worming his way under her skin and behind her eyes; letting his scar tissue call out to hers. Making her want to admit defeat, throw her mask on the floor and open up to all the understanding and empathy his presence alone seemed to promise. 

It was foolish to think he held any solution to her own issues, she'd rejected the possibility dozens of times. Telling herself there was no connection between them, no common ground. Believing there was, even for a moment could be disastrous. She had to ignore the pull she felt to him, for her own sanity if nothing else. 

"I can see that it would be a risk to you." she gave him, completely ignoring the flurry of emotions inside her. "....To get close to someone who might discover the truth about your past." 

"Exactly!" he nodded, trying to search her eyes again. Knowing instinctively that she seemed to be speaking directly from experience. 

He'd never been around someone who seemed to genuinely understand in the way that she did. It lifted his spirits to know that he _could_ be understood after floating in the void for so long, but it simultaneously troubled him. Causing more questions about what she was hiding to rush to the forefront of his mind. He wanted to push and pry, tempt her into revealing herself to him, but he knew ther was no way she'd expose her inner workings to him, especially not in that office space.

He desperately wanted to turn the moment back around on her, but he was lost for a way to even go about telling her what he was seeing in her eyes, it was clearly something she tried hard to keep hidden. While he wasn't a man of many morals, there was an uneasy feeling inside him at the very idea of pushing her into revealing herself. He wanted to know about what was behind her eyes, find out just how accurately she related to his plight. Ask her all the questions that kept developing with every moment they spent together but he felt it had to come in her time, _not his_. 

His only choice was to elaborate a little on his own problems, hoping he might elicit further unspoken reaction from her, while simultaneously playing the patient and cutting her a little of the slack that her troubled eyes suggested she needed. 

"I've tried to get along with some of the guys at the golf club..." he put forward to her. "...but they're all about their big corporate wins, promotions and their perfect family and shit." she nodded, showing she was following him and clearly glad of him taking the lead. "And we know my family ain't perfect and the most impressive things I've done I can't open my damn mouth about, without riskin' catchin' a twenty stretch." he complained, starting to gesticulate again as he always did when he tapped into the pockets of anger and frustration that filled him. "So I've kept my head down." he admitted. "Avoided people, and just gotten used to livin' in my own head..."

Something flickered in her eyes again, showing that she'd made a real connection to his story, but his instinct wasn't to stop and push at her but to run on with the most prominent thoughts in his own head. Enjoying the way offloading made his shoulders feel lighter, and how her understanding seemed to warm the numbness inside him. 

"...I guess I avoided people because I was afraid blowin' the roof off this wit-pro shit too..." he added. "But I think I got so fuckin' desperate and bored, as soon as the right person, with the wrong ideas showed up...I couldn't resist runnin' right into trouble." he confessed. "And now I can't seem to lock everythin' back down like I had before..." 

Dr. Nardovino said a silent prayer to anyone listening, that he wasn't getting at her being part of his problems, but more than that she hoped the depths to which she understood his struggles weren't showing on her face. 

Everything he was saying almost perfectly mirrored her own life and it was so hard to stop the connection she felt taking over the session. She couldn't let him know that she related deeply with his words, she had to be professional and stop the thoughts in her head that seemed to be trying to convince her that _he_ could help her more than she could help _him_. Reminding herself firmly that _she _was the therapist.__

__"I can see you get it, Doc." Michael announced, looking right at her, making her fidget in her seat a little in the heat of his spotlight._ _

__"How about at the studio?" she deflected effortlessly. "There must be people there you can connect with? You have a common ground based around your work within the industry. Ways to start conversations about the movies you're making, meetings, social events to attend an-and such..." she stopped herself, painfully aware that she was rambling. Fearing she was being too obvious in trying to resist taking his lead by talking far too much again._ _

__The intensity of his eyes told her that he was already fully aware of her struggle. The way his eyes penetrated through her, to the most deeply hidden parts of herself, was beyond troubling. It threatened to destroy her defences all over again and she dug in deep. Searching for every ounce of strength she had left to resist what she felt calling out to her from inside him. She wasn't going to let him crack her again, not there, not then, _not ever_. _ _

__Michael kept staring at her for several moments, sensing something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Whatever it was told him again that she only avoided his remark for her fear of revealing just how deeply she related to parts of his life._ _

__"What's your story, Doc?" he asked out boldly, and her heart fell. She knew it was only a matter of time before he started trying to turn the tables. He'd seen too much through the gaps in her defences. "I mean, you're clearly really good at being two different people, how'd you do it?"_ _

__"It's called being professional." she told standoffishly._ _

__"Nah!" Michael dismissed with a light laugh. "It's more than that, I can tell."_ _

__"This is your session, Michael, not mine." she told him firmly. Showing with her eyes that she was locking herself down emotionally. Not letting him read into her anymore than he already had tried to._ _

__Michael sighed heavily, frustrated. For every layer of paint he scraped off her mask, she seemed to paint another one over the top of it, to prevent him ever getting to what was underneath._ _

__Undeterred, he opened his mouth to speak again, to pry into her head some more -as he'd been desperate to do for so long- but she had other ideas._ _

__"Have you tried getting to know people at the studio?" she asked out again quickly, cutting off his lead, determined not to stray off course. She couldn't risk giving him a chance to try and unravel her. He'd come too close to doing that in the past - it had to stop. She had to be stronger; to be a better therapist._ _

__He gave her a look, with almost narrowed eyes, that seemed to chastise her for blocking his plays, but he surrendered to her pressure and shrugged in response. "I talk to people." he confirmed. "But I don't think any of them are the kinda folks I'd wanna spend time with." he dismissed, again giving the doctor the distinct impression he didn't actually want to do anything to help himself. "So instead most of the time I'm left sittin' at home feelin' useless, with my fucked up family drivin' me nuts, just waitin' for some trouble to come along so I can feel somethin' real again!"_ _

__She pulled her eyes off him, focusing firmly on her notes, looking for a way to get off the topic she felt tugging at her emotions. Knowing that the depths of his confession were potentially incendiary for them both._ _

__"When we met last time, we spoke about the dreams you've been having. Did you try to practice the technique I suggested?"_ _

__Michael's mood shifted gears, straight back into his ever present lust for her. "Yeah. It helped a bit." he confirmed; resisting the impulse to tell her about how he'd dreamed of her. Picturing her as some kind of damsel in distress; rescuing her from every imaginable threat. Running to her all bloodied and beaten but with still enough left in the tank to take her passionately amongst the bodies of their enemies. "It's been kinda fun actually." he muttered, a wolfish glint in his eye._ _

__"I'm glad." she nodded, dreading to think just what the hell he'd been imaging in bed at night, laying besides his wife. Her stomach turned cold at the thought, but she focused through it. "And did you think anymore on what I said about deciding on your nightmares true meaning?"_ _

__Michael shrugged, deflated again by the way she'd switched the topic _and_ mood again with such ease. "I dunno....I thought about it.... _a bit_....but I didn't come to any real conclusion." he stopped short, thoughts coming to him as he tried to find a way to articulate them. "I mean, I thought I wanted this normal life and all. But...." his voice trailed off, keeping silent for a few moments more as he tried to process through his muddled feelings. "...I guess that I try real hard not to ever think about changin' things too much... 'cause the more I do that, the more I feel like I'm gonna wanna say _fuck it_ , cash in my chips and just start over somehow. But I can't." _ _

__She knew she should have instantly shut him down and told him that was a bad idea; she should rush to convince him it was the easy way out, but instead she let her curious heart get the better of her professionalism. "Why not?"_ _

__Michael looked over to her, searching her face for a hint of what encouraged her interest but finding only distance in her eyes again. "This whole wit-pro thing. I'm trapped in it." he clarified. "The deal I made, I'm not sure if I could get out of it, if I wanted too. I mean I know Amanda would divorce me if she could."_ _

__"Why do you think she feels she can't divorce you?"_ _

__"Money is my first guess, she ain't gonna quit this cash-cow for nothin', but she reckons we can't divorce in wit-pro." he told. "And I ain't brave enough to look into it...'cause I'm worried what I might wind up doin' it the second I find out it's really an option."_ _

__Dr. Nardovino bit her tongue, holding back an impulsive response and looked for another, more professional one. "Divorce is the easy option Michael." she managed to force out through a head full of sudden noise._ _

__"I know." he agreed, thoughtfully. Tempted by the ease of giving up but feeling guilty about the idea of finally giving in. Not knowing what the hell he'd do with himself if he didn't have his family around, bugging him constantly and occupying his mind from the dark thoughts that came for him when he was alone._ _

__Dr. Nardovino swallowed the lump in her throat and breathed in deeply through her nose and silently out from her mouth. Trying to center herself and find a way to move forward without cutting the tricky topic off completely._ _

__She'd been meaning to address something she'd found in his paperwork, a troubling aspect that his previous therapist had documented, with an eye to explore further before his untimely demise. The duty now fell with her to tackle it head on, and make him look back at his negative behaviours._ _

__"I understand from Doctor Friedlander's notes...that your last session with him involved your family...and ended with you and your wife both said some things that were for want of a better word, _threats_."_ _

__Michael's instinct told him it was best to not correct her on how that particular session had not actually been his last with Friedlander. Knowing it was far better if she never knew how their true finale had ended rather more dramatically that then one with his family._ _

__"Yeah, we did." he confirmed bluntly. "To be honest with ya, Doc...this whole reconciliation is founded on her threatenin' to turn me into the cops and me threatenin' to kill her." he told, his tone somewhat regretful, although he had truly meant what he said at the time. "Makes me feel like an even bigger asshole....and I know me sayin' that shit was probably the only reason why she agreed to come home with me..." he admitted. "I don't think I meant to say it....but there's just no way to make her understand our problems. She gets at me so much, with how it's always my fault. She never sees the shit she's doin'!" his voice was growing increasingly darker with awakening anger._ _

__Dr. Nardovino couldn't deny she was uncomfortable with knowing how he'd intimidated his wife, and mother of his children, in such a way but Friedlander hadn't exactly painted Amanda in the nicest of lights. In fact, he had very few positive things to say about any member of the De Santa family, but she'd tried not to allow his negative approach to tarnish her own._ _

__In part, Dr. Nardovino completely understood Michael's rage, yet at the same time she also felt some sympathy and acceptance for Amanda too, which only served to tear her in difficult directions. It was hard to navigate through all the terrible things he'd said about his wife, and how awful she felt about coveting another woman's husband. It made her feel like she wanted to change the subject all together; it was far easier to talk about the affects of his criminal endeavours than his spousal ones._ _

__Talking about his marriage on any significant level had always been awkward, but now, after everything that had happened between them, all the looks and the sexual tension in her house, it felt so much worse. Especially as despite trying hard to do so, she couldn't find it in herself to judge or dislike Amanda, since all she had to go on was second hand opinions. She knew herself what it was like to be judged by people who didn't know all sides of a story, and she was determined not to shift from her impartial mindset._ _

__She reminded herself of how she should take all he told her with a pinch of salt, to treat it as fiction to some degree, to allow her to remain open minded and avoid having her opinions manipulated by his impassioned rants._ _

__"There's clearly a breakdown in communications." she offered for lack of anything better to say. "You could both benefit from some continued mediation. A course of couples therapy." she suggested, trying to avoid getting herself in a mess._ _

__Michael scoffed. "Fuck that. We tried it." he told obnoxiously, surprised she was encouraging him down a dead-end he'd already explored. "It don't work. Just ends up being a hour of her tellin' someone what an asshole I am, how horrible it is to be blowin' three grand's worth of blood money on a pair of earrings she don't need..." he growled, stabbing at the air as his barely controllable anger began to break loose. "Or how I'm never present and that I'm selfish and a sack of shit. I don't need to pay someone to hear that, I get it enough every wakin' fuckin' hour at home."_ _

__Dr. Nardovino took a deep but silent breath, sensing she'd just popped the cork on a whole world of issues he hadn't yet had the opportunity to lay on her. She had to do something to steer him away from the edge, for both their sakes._ _

__"You're never going to find peace in your relationship if you continue in this pattern of behaviour." she told him, completely shutting down the part of herself that wanted to say what she was really starting to think about the marriage. "You have to address the issues you have as a couple. It seems to me that you both keep sweeping everything under the rug, hoping it'll sort itself out, but it doesn't, so you just keep tripping over it." Michael nodded thoughtful admits his rumbling anger. "Unless you clear it all out into the open and sort through it, the pile is just gonna get higher and higher."_ _

__"It's pretty fuckin' high already, Doc. We got more problems than you could solve in a lifetime of therapy sessions." he told, adamantly. "...With her, it's always _me_ who has to promise to be a better person, to stop robbin' people, to stop cheatin'." he spat out, his tone becoming increasingly more bitter. "I had to promise all that shit, and when I asked the same of her, she just turns it back around on me and promises nothin' back! It's always about how she has to trust me, but how can I trust her again?" he snapped, his hands and arms gathering a wildness in their movements again as the animosity he'd been harbouring for so long spotted a open door and made a bolt for freedom. _ _

__"I mean I'm lookin' like a prick promisin' to be a good husband." he admitted, not willing to give up the stage he could now dominate. "...and it's takin' _everythin'_ I have not to fuck it up, and she never promised me to she'd try to be a better wife!" he barked, his eyes focused passionately on his therapist. "She cheated on me too! God knows how many times...but she never promised that _she_ would stop fuckin' every guy that crosses her path...." he paused for a breath and to catch another thought, but suddenly was up on his feet. His anger pushing energy into his limbs, forcing him to become more animated by angrily pacing the room. _ _

__"...She's always playin' the fuckin' innocent one." he continued. "It's always me who's the asshole, it's never her. She says I don't take no responsibility for my actions, and yeah, maybe I don't, but neither does she. _EVER!_ " he barked, stabbing the air with a finger as he marched back and forth. "I mean, sure. I mighta cheated first, but an eye for an eye don't solve shit!" he growled. "And I didn't _keep on_ cheatin' with everyone who crossed my path until there was nothing left of this fuckin' marriage but a Goddam fake name and the paper it was printed on..." he bellowed, not caring if his therapist was listening anymore, he just needed to let the long bottled up rage out somewhere. _ _

__In his moments pause, Dr. Nardovino scrambled for a place to begin covering all he'd said, but he wasn't done - not by a long shot._ _

__He'd been harbouring so much negativity since reconciling, and he'd tried to ignore it and focus on what little good there was in the situation but as the weeks past it became almost impossible to not be eaten up by their many issues, and significant levels of animosity that had grown malignant over the many troubled years of their marriage._ _

__All the fighting he'd been through in recent days had chipped away the very last of the sugar coating their reconciliation had painted over their problems. The indirect insults and snide digs had devolved to become full on personal attacks again, and he'd tried so hard to keep biting his tongue in the four walls of him home. Yet there in her office, he found he couldn't hold back. He needed to off load, to let rip and release some of the tension he'd been living under for weeks on end. Knowing if he unloaded there in her office, he'd buy himself some time to be able to maintain some civility at home, at least for a little while longer._ _

__"I try to just get on with it...you know?" he continued, coming back to the couch and dropping down heavily in his seat again. "Not think about how fucked everything is....but lately....especially with Trevor hovering around so much it's all just unravelling." he confessed, his anger simmering for a moment. "We ain't had sex in forever, and I know she's gotta be gettin' it somewhere because she can't keep her knees together if there's even a hint of dick around...." he said bitterly, making his doctor very uncomfortable. "For all I fuckin' know she's probably bangin' the fuckin' decorator as we speak....or her plastic surgeon or this fuckin' weird hippy healer dude that she keeps bringin' around the place..."_ _

__Dr. Nardovino opened her mouth to interject, to try and help him process through all the anger and blame he was splashing around, and refusing to acknowledge in the way he needed to, but he had no intentions of letting her cut in now he was on a roll. Many weeks of repressed anger was breaking through the floodgates inside him, and it seemed like there was little she could do to control the release of his pressures._ _

__"I mean I ain't sayin' I'm innocent. I'm an asshole." he added. "I put 'em all in danger on more than one occasion, and maybe I deserved to be treated like shit. 'Cause I cheated.... _a lot!_ I'm a fuckin' asshole!" he said again from the edge of his seat, but something about his tone said he didn't believe he was truly to blame for the situation. "But you know...at least I took that shit outside of the house. At least I wasn't fuckin' anyone else in _our_ Goddamn bed! In the fuckin' house that our kids live in, for Christ sake!" he barked again, letting his fury reign free which sent him up out of his seat once more. " _And_ she sure as shit wasn't payin' for the privilege of me bangin' some side piece either!" he snapped, as he stomped over to the window and back to the couch again. "But she been using my money to fuck other men for years. What the fuck kinda idiot does that make me? She's gotta be laughin' at me, _right?_ To do all that to our marriage and still have me on the hook beggin' for another chance? Jesus! I'm a fuckin' idiot!" _ _

__Dr. Nardovino swallowed hard, trying to hold fast against his barrage of aggression. She felt torn, and almost dizzy from his pacing around and wild gesticulation. She knew it was terrible for him to be saying such things about the mother of his children, but at the same time the hurt she heard underneath his fury made her sympathise. Both he and Amanda had done wrong, and with so much underlying hatred for one another, and so many wounds left unhealed, it was unlikely they'd ever truly mend or stop hurting each other - deliberately or otherwise._ _

__"And another thing!" he cried; his anger having stalled for only a moment before bursting to life again, and blocking his therapist from trying to help him process his anger properly. "I've never told anyone I know about this...not even her, _not yet_." _ _

__"Okay?" Dr. Nardovino encouraged. Feeling strangely honoured by the fact he was actually choosing to confide something completely new in her. Her ever present self-doubt told her his confidence in sharing certainly wasn't because she was doing a good job as his therapist. In fact, she was certain she couldn't be doing a worse job of helping him work through his issues._ _

__He came back over to the couch again, and sat down softer this time, as if he was uncertain about revealing what he knew. Yet he knew he had to let it out; get some perspective on it all. Which he hoped would help prevent him from going nuclear at home._ _

__"I found out that she'd joined a datin' website." he announced. "Nah...it ain't a datin' site. It's a fuckin' hook-up site. Hush Sush or somethin' like that?" he asked, like his therapist was supposed to know what he was on about, but she didn't. "...Five hundred bucks for membership, and she was tryin' to find guys to have sex with through that too...the fuck?"_ _

__"How did you find that out?"_ _

__Michael eyeballed her, weighing up his options on how to explain himself. "I came across her profile."_ _

__"Did you join the site?"_ _

__"No!" he dismissed impulsively, but then backpedalled again. "Well yeah.... _I did_ I _had to_. You needed a membership to see the profiles, but I was just lookin', I wasn't tryin' to meet women." he defended. She looked over the top of her glasses and cocked an eyebrow at him, not believing him for a second, and something about her expression sent a jolt of electricity through him. _ _

__She was disappointed in his behaviour, but encouraged him to continue. Needing more information before she could judge the situation. "Are you certain it was her? I mean-" he cut her off angrily._ _

__"It was her alright!" he grunted. Knowing just by what was written and the clues in the picture that there was no doubt what his wife had done._ _

__"And so how did it make you feel to find this out?"_ _

__"Fuckin' pissed! How'd you think it made me feel?" he snapped with misdirected anger. "Even on her profile she was bitchin' about how fuckin' awful I am as a husband. And you know what, maybe I am. I never claimed to be a good husband, or a good man. I'm the worst kind of person, but when I cheated, it was after a bottle of whiskey and with some chick whose real name I didn't know."_ _

__"Being drunk is no excuse, Michael."_ _

__"I'm not sayin' it is!" he growled, annoyed at her for seeming so aloof, and chastising him. He needed support and validation not reprimand. "I'm just....I'm sayin' it's _different_." he persuaded. "When we moved here it was a new start, but it didn't count for nothin' with her. I never set out to cheat and I didn't use _her_ money to do it either, it just happened.... _And_ I never went with anyone she had to look in the fuckin' eye, I didn't fuck anyone in our bed, and I wasn't sittin' at home on a laptop searchin' for someone to bang right under her fuckin' nose." he bellowed. His voice raspy with rage, the tone of which consistently sent warm shivers up Dr. Nardovino's spine. _ _

__She swallowed hard, taken back again by another of his outbursts and the troubling information he'd revealed. She was becoming increasingly unsure if his wife did actually want to rescue their marriage, or as Michael suggested, had just returned to the family home based on the threats made to her safety and financial security. It was all getting too much to handle, too much information and no way to help him put any of it in any kind of manageable order or understanding._ _

__"I'm sure she's making the effort to be a better person now." she offered, uncertain how else to proceed._ _

__"Bullshit." he hissed. "She's cheated on me so much, it's second nature to her now, she wouldn't know how to stop if she wanted to! I know she's been laughin' at me this whole fuckin' time. Playin' me for a Goddamn fool!" he insisted, his hands and arms waving around wildly. "And shit...it ain't even just the cheatin'!" he added, feeling a slight prang of guilt for knowing they had some kind of unspoken agreement about finding sex outside of the marital bed. "I don't think she's even aware of the other shit she's doing half the time....Like last night..."_ _

__Dr. Nardovino almost sighed, knowing there was no way to interject and redirect the session to something more beneficial. Instead she gave up, and sank back into her chair, bracing herself for another round of his fury._ _

__"...She was getting crazy over Trevor showin' up at the house again." Michael continued, oblivious to how awkward he was making things for his therapist. "But she can't even realize that the whole reason he's back in our lives is because of the her fuckin' cheatin'."_ _

__Dr. Nardovino frowned, confused. "How have you made that connection?"_ _

__Michael sighed and mirrored his doctor by sinking back into the couch, defeated almost by the idea of having to explain himself, but he figured she needed to know the finer details of his return to a criminal lifestyle, and learn where he'd been quietly placing the blame in the weeks since it all occurred._ _

__"If it wasn't for her bangin' her tennis coach, I never would have wound up pulling a fuckin' house off the hill and owning some Mexican 'hood a couple million bucks. I would never have been back in the game if it wasn't for her and that fuckin' guy, I never would have robbed that jewellery store and Trevor never would have found out I was still alive." he declared bitterly._ _

__"Amanda's behaviour doesn't make her accountable for your actions. You chose to react the way you did-" he cut her off._ _

__"But I wouldn't have had to, if she hadn't fuckin' triggered it all by lettin' me find some other fuck in my bed."_ _

__Dr. Nardovino held in a sigh, she somehow knew that there would be no talking sense into him. No making him see that his wife wasn't the one who'd overreacted and pulled down a person's house in retaliation. He was entirely responsible for those actions, which had supposedly _forced_ him to return to criminal endeavours. She needed to spin things differently, in the hopes of diluting the animosity he clearly felt. _ _

__She sat up straighter, ready to justify herself and field his denial responses if they came. "If you really do consider your wife to be the cause of your current situation, then perhaps a better way to see things would be to realize that her actions actually stood to benefit you also."_ _

__"Whaddya mean?" he quizzed with a deep frown._ _

__"Well, it's my understanding that your return to criminal circles lead to you making connections with Richard's Majestic...is that correct?"_ _

__"Yeah. _And?_ " her point clearly was wasted on him. _ _

__"Well don't you think that perhaps if it wasn't for your wife's behaviour, you never would have found work in the movie industry?"_ _

__An odd look came across his eyes, as the anger in him retreated momentarily, surprised by how her view point made him feel. He wasn't going to say it, because he didn't like having to admit he had to change his opinions, but she did have a point. However, it did little to sate the anger he still held inside for the way his wife made his life a misery at every possible opportunity._ _

__"Yeah, well...besides which way..." he piped up again, deliberately avoiding acknowledging just how accurate his therapist had been by resuming his vocal rampage. "...I can't stand the bitchin' about how T has roped me back into robbin' someone else, when all the time I'm sitting there knowing that we'd still been living happily in secret if she hadn't pulled the plug on our marriage." he sniped. "Like last night....I dunno how she did it, but she stood there ranting at me about how awful I am and how horrible it is to have Trevor coming back around, all the while she's puttin' these fuckin' designer clothes she'd just bought into the closet. I mean, what the fuck is with that?" he exclaimed. "She knows T is part of the reason we got the money we do...She can't stand there and tell me how fuckin' bad I am for doin' these things to make money, and then go out there and spend it like it ain't nothin'."_ _

__"You think she doesn't understand what risks you took to get the money you have?"_ _

__"Of course she don't understand!" Michael cried. "She ain't got a fuckin' clue what that shit really costs, neither have the kids. None of 'em have ever done a real day's work!" a memory suddenly popped up in his head. "And don't you fuckin' start." he warned locking eyes with her on the point of an angry finger. "I know pulling scores ain't like real work, _alright?_ So I don't want to hear it." _ _

__She narrowed her eyes at him a tiny bit. Allowing him the right to voice a defence, but silently warning him he'd only ever get one chance to speak to her like that, without summoning the beast she kept dormant inside._ _

__"Why does it matter so much that they don't understand?" she asked out, forcing herself to remain calm and professional in the face of provocation which would have caused her younger self to explode. "I mean, the wife of a man who works sixteen hours a day at the city dump probably doesn't understand what her husband truly does to earn money. The toll it takes on him, how dirty he feels after a shift."_ _

__"And they're probably in therapy too!" he defended sarcastically._ _

__Dr. Nardovino bit the inside of her lip, stopping herself from smiling. She had to remain serious, be the firm but understanding therapist he needed, not be a foolish young woman who was amused by such sarcasm._ _

__"I think that you resent your family for not acknowledging the lengths you've gone to, because by not acknowledging the price you've had to pay, they're trivialising and somehow undermining the risks you've taken."_ _

__"Fuckin' A right!" he cheered, elated to hear someone confirming with what he understood inside. "They're either bitchin' at me for what I've done or just completely ignorin' the impact that shit has had...on me...on them...on other people." he explained. "And that...." he hesitated, unsure for a moment. "....I dunno, Doc. It just makes it all feel like nothin'. Like all this struggle to make the money and then being fuckin' haunted by all the mistakes is irrelevant to them...like it's all just ordinary and normal....and I'm ain't fuckin' _ordinary_!" _ _

__Dr. Nardovino nodded contently, relived he'd finally come to some understanding of himself. "That's exactly it. As much as you think you want to be normal, actually being considered average scares you."_ _

__"I dunno about that, Doc...I ain't scared of nothin'." Michael told emptily, telling her she was on the money again. _He was scared alright!_ Deep down he held many fears, that much was obvious to them both, but above all his worries and anger, she knew that most of all he hated feeling worthless. Every word he spoke to her told her how he hated appearing unaccomplished and average to the unknowing eye. How the feeling of being put out to pasture, and fading to grey hurt more than anything he'd experienced before. _ _

__"I mean _shit_ , I just hate how there's no middle ground with them." he continued. "It's either ignore the fact it's blood money or bitch about nothin' else...And if Amanda really did feel bad about how we got this money, why the fuck does she not give it to charity, or quit splashing the cash? How bad does she really feel about it when she's burnin' out my credit card on Portola Drive or drinkin' three thousand dollar champagne at the country club?" _ _

__"I can't speak for your wife, Michael. But I feel this is the kind of thing you need to discuss with her, have her answer your questions once and for all, to clear the air."_ _

__Michael waved his hand dismissively. "I told you, Doc. It don't work. She never admits any responsibility for nothin'."_ _

__Dr. Nardovino ignored the urge to roll her eyes at how hypocritical his comment seemed and tried to keep herself level. "Then you need a therapist who will encourage you both do that."_ _

__"You?" he asked, his eyes hopeful while her subtle dig at him went by completely unnoticed._ _

__She shook her head immediately. "No. After everything you've told me, it would be a conflict of interests."_ _

__"Friedlander didn't have a problem with it."_ _

__She breathed deeply, to find some strength to refuse him. "Doctor Friedlander's methods were different to my own. I can put you in touch with someone else, who can be impartial-" Michael cut in._ _

__"Why? You afraid you wouldn't be able to referee us? You gonna take sides?" he teased cockily, liking the possibility of actually having someone going in to bat for him._ _

__She knew he was trying to lead her astray again, but she resisted skilfully. "Therapy would be much more affective for you both if you went to someone who didn't have a history with either of you. To level the playing field."_ _

__Michael sighed, dejectedly. Guessing maybe it was for the best if his wife didn't find out he was seeing a female therapist, especially not such an attractive one. That was a level of awkwardness he would never be prepared for._ _

__"It ain't gonna help any." he rejected._ _

__"If you want to save your marriage, you'll try." she told him adamantly, in spite of herself. Hoping his lengthy outbursts had at least given her an opening to clarify that she had some respect for his marriage, even if he didn't. Which in turn, she hoped, would halt any ideas he was having about her being a good reason to stray from his wife._ _

__Michael went to speak again, to say God only knew what, but she cut him off. "That's really all we have time for." she told, desperate to be released from under his microscope and the heat of his fury. Getting increasingly uncomfortable with how his anger appealed to the darker side of herself, and even more so with how hearing all his marital problems made her want to tell him to cash out and start over. For his sake, and for that of his wife's._ _

__Michael's shoulders slumped a little, disappointed that their session was over, but he didn't push her for more time. He'd shown up early and caught her off guard, ranted about his life until he was blue in the face - he'd pressured her enough._ _

__Besides that, he felt good - _lighter_. Like he'd shed enough of his burdens to help keep himself in check just a little longer. From experience, he knew all too well that if the session went on any longer, she'd start digging deeper and turning everything around on him again, which would only serve to undo all the good a monumental rant had done him. _ _

__She gave him a faint but polite smile, relieved an escape was in sight, and got up from her seat, smoothing out her blouse. "I'm not familiar with most of the therapists in town yet, but I will make some calls and find someone who might be able to see you both. I'll try to have some details for you next time." she tried not to notice the look of disapproval on his face. "Until then, just try to be mindful of the people around you and how you choose to react to them. It's easier to control your reactions that to clean up after them."_ _

__Michael wanted to roll his eyes defiantly at her textbook advice, but they were far too busy looking her up and down. Admiring her long legs and shapely hips, committing the image of her to memory so it was in place to help him escape at a later point in his day._ _

__Despite the physical attraction he held for her, it was becoming harder to resist acknowledging the way he felt as if he could sit with her for hours, not necessarily even talking, just being in her presence was enough to provide him some clarity on his own problems, but never on hers. Somehow wondering about her always seemed to fill the hole she'd helped him clear by voicing his life troubles. Replacing concerns and anger about his own life with many questions about her instead._ _

__"A'right." he agreed to her offer and reluctantly stood up ready to leave, as an odd sense of unease began to float up from the pit of his stomach into his chest. However, he had no time to process it before she was ushering him out of the office, like a dirty little secret._ _

__At the door, he looked over her pretty face for a moment, searching for a way to address the odd sensation inside him, when he suddenly realized he had to hear something before he could walk away from her. He needed to know she wasn't trying to push him away. Worried that she was planning on ditching him on someone else under the guise of helping him save his marriage._ _

__"You're not gonna palm me off on another shrink are ya, Doc?" he asked at the door, the need to confirm that she was still there for him was strong and urgent._ _

__"Of course not." she denied with a gentle smile. "Our arrangement still stands, I just feel it's going to beneficial for you to also have another outlet that you can involve your wife in." she suggested, thinking on her feet. Trying hard not to admit that she felt couples therapy would probably be as hopeless as he'd deemed it to be, but she had to try something. At very least it would perhaps limit the amount of complaining he did about his wife in her office in the future. That could only serve to make her life a little easier at least._ _

__Michael nodded, relieved to know she wasn't planning on abandoning him. "A'right then. See you Thursday?" he offered._ _

__"Eleven am." she confirmed sweetly, making Michael give a soft smile, before taking one last lingering look at her._ _

__"I'll try to get my time keepin' in order for our next session. Don't wanna interrupt you flirtin' with the old dude." he teased, stalling for time._ _

__She laughed at his nerve. "Believe me, you were a welcome sight."_ _

__"Well that's good to know." he smirked as the cloud of chemistry between them began to swirl again. Pulling them both out of the present setting and into each other._ _

__"See you next week." she said out boldly, instantly denying the almost overwhelming draw she felt to him._ _

__Michael's eyes twinkled wickedly. "Yeah ya will." he agreed cheerfully, as inside he fought with the desire to reach out and grab her. He wanted nothing more than to plant his lips against hers and forget that he ever wanted to try saving his marriage, but his strength to resist pulled at him and forced him to turn away._ _

__As he stepped through her office door he turned the key on the lockbox inside him, that had once contained all the bitter thoughts he'd just shared. It was empty now that he'd spilled out them all out for his therapist, releasing the pressure and leaving everything behind in her office._ _

__He was relieved by just how much lighter the load on his shoulders felt. The problems in his life were going to be much easier to bear for blowing off so much steam in her company, and expertly avoiding focusing in on the deeper source of his issues._ _

__As soon as he was clear, Cassidy shut the door and pushed in the button on the door handle, locking it tight. She turned back to face into the room and press her back against the wood, as if to steady herself as she closed her eyes tightly and tried to focus on her breathing._ _

__She was relieved that he didn't mention what had happened at the weekend, or complain about her behaviour but rather than confronting her with something she'd been prepared to address, he'd instead filled her with a confusing swarm of feelings. Ranging from arousal for his show of anger and frustration over how difficult he made it for her to do her job. What felt the worst of all, was the awkward sense of understanding for him and also the people in his life. Which in turn went hand in hand to increase the anxiety and guilt inside her, that was becoming a worryingly familiar every time he left her._ _

__Most of all, everything he'd said about his marriage troubled her. The smart move would have been to allow a couple's therapy session in her office, to see both sides of the story for herself. If only to prevent herself from seeing Michael as the victim, and denying the urge to believe he was in fact at fault for everything he was experiencing._ _

__He'd painted his wife as an almost cartoonish villain, and it was hard to believe he was grossly wrong about everything but she had to keep an open mind. She knew there were two sides to every story, and she understood from his file that Michael had a habit of being creative with the truth at times. It was also clear that his words could well have been a deferred guilt response of some kind too, as she was well aware that he did all he could to avoid taking responsibility for his own actions._ _

__She couldn't let the one sided information she had influence her opinions and demonize the woman he married. Knowing that if she grew to truly feel negatively towards Amanda, it would affect his treatment and more so her resolve to not act on the chemistry she felt with him. She was all but convinced that his real issues didn't lie in the hands of his wife, but more so with how he felt unfulfilled and unimportant -disregarded- and that was something she'd have to pull him up on the next time they saw one another._ _

__As she gathered up her notepad from the coffee table, she found it hard to not already hate all the new information she had, acutely aware of how it would only serve to play on her mind for days to come. Making her worry about how best to handle herself around him, and putting a new sense of anxiety in her for what was going to happen next. He was becoming unpredictable with how he kept appearing when she least expected it, and the idea of him finding her again when she was vulnerable would play on her mind for the days between their sessions. Something told her she was on borrowed time, and that the threat of him appearing in front of her again -before she had time to properly prepare and reharden her defences- was higher than ever before._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a long one huh? Haha! I hope you guys enjoyed the read, as always I would love to hear your thoughts (good or bad) as the feedback I've received on this story has been a huge help in producing the chapters and moving this story forward. Thanks for reading!


	12. The Mess We're In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm sorry I've sucked with updating; I hope you're all still with me. Time has really got away from me recently and I apologize for not updating as regularly as I'd like to. 
> 
> As is so often the case with this fic, the next couple of chapters were originally one huge one, but so much is said and done and thought and felt in this session I want to perfect it before I release it into the wild, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging any longer so I chopped this part off it to share. 
> 
> So forgive me, but this is kind of a teaser and will leave a bit of a cliff hanger. Rest assured though, all this is leading somewhere and this session is the catalyst that will bring about a change in Michael and Cassidy's relationship. 
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone who showed love for the last chapter. You guys are the best! Hope you enjoy!

When Dr. Nardovino had opened her office door early on Monday morning, to go grab a coffee before her first patient of the week, the last thing in the world she expected to see was Michael De Santa. 

She was shocked, and slightly panicked to find him sitting out in her waiting room, staring into space with a lost -almost broken- look on his face. Her internal voice instantly hissed about how he was taking advantage, bitter for how he'd caught her off guard yet again. She wasn't prepared to see him in any sense after their last session. All his ranting had made her head spin and she'd been banking on having another four days to ready herself to face off with him again, but as was becoming a troubling habit, he'd once more shown up on her doorstep when she'd least expected it. 

She scrambled to gather herself emotionally, to solidify her defences before opening her mouth to speak, but as she took a step towards him she realized just how exposed she was. Dressed in a short black fishtail skirt and a white silk blouse that revealed far more cleavage than she felt comfortable with him seeing. She should have known better than to go around unprepared to handle him at a moment's notice. It had been obvious that he'd catch her out at some point; he seemed to have a knack for sensing when she was least confident and under guarded. Continually turning up in those moments, as predictably as wasps at a picnic. 

She was understandably annoyed at him for visiting her outside of set hours again, but the very sight of him looking so forlorn triggered something inside her, and she managed to dig deep enough to put her panic and apprehension to one side and find her voice to call out warmly to him. 

"Michael? Are you okay? What's happened?"

The sound of her concern cracked the sarcophagus of darkness that had encased him, pulling him from his thoughts for a moment long enough to look up and over at her. In that same second she knew only from the expression on his face that he was tortured. The lines on his face seemed deeper and his steely blue eyes appeared dull and vacant, as if the Michael she had come to know was lost somewhere inside him, buried beneath his sins. 

Full of worrisome thoughts about what might have caused his appearance, Dr. Nardovino didn't hesitate in kindly inviting him inside, but he didn't say a word to her. He just stared emptily for a few moments, making her feel more awkward than ever before. 

She struggled not to fidget as they stood in a silent stale mate; saying a silent prayer to herself that he'd make a move to stand or speak but he didn't budge. He obviously still needed time, so instead of pushing him she just gave him a soft encouraging smile and slipped back into her office, leaving the door open for him to enter as he pleased. 

Trying to calm the growing storm inside her, the doctor quickly took her usual seat and focused on her breathing. A myriad of different ideas and explanations for his appearance began to swarm around her head, troubling thoughts relating to the topics they had addressed in their last session as well as so many words left unspoken by them both in the time since they'd first met. 

She'd never seen him look so troubled before. She was used to him angry, fired up and bitter -she knew how to handle that- but seeing him look broken and despondent played to another side of her. A side that tapped into a pool of tenderness, building a deep worry for him that would only serve to worsen and make her more vulnerable around him than ever before. 

She was just beginning to herd her troubled thoughts into an orderly queue in her head, when he finally appeared in the doorway. Looking around almost sheepishly, as if to be certain she was alone, before stepping in and closing the door behind him, without a single word. 

His Italian leather shoes creaked as he began to wander around the office, his head dipped slightly with the weight of his thoughts. All she could do was watch and suffer the unsettled atmosphere he bought to her space. An anxious mood that made her hands start to itch for something to fiddle with, reminding her just how unguarded she was. 

Her eyes shot to her desk where her notepad and glasses lay waiting helplessly, and the urge to bolt across the room to grab them filled her but she was rooted to the chair. Afraid to risk making a sound and shattering the eerie silence; likened the tense energy around him to that of a wild animal, making her fear that any sudden move could provoke him into an attack. 

Without anything in her hands or providing a buffer between her eyes and his, she felt bare. It would be so much harder to be professional, calm and understanding without her props, and with the unfamiliar attitude he was exhibiting she felt like disaster was already brewing. 

Despite her urge to hurry things along and get to the bottom of the matter, there was no denying she was grateful for his silence, it gave her a chance to try and gather the confidence to take him on, but as the seconds ticked by it was becoming increasingly harder to speak up and pull him in. 

He was adrift on an ocean of worries, and she had to do something to pull him back to her and out from under the thunder cloud that hovered ominously over his head. He felt like a bomb waiting to go off, and she was unsure if she should cut the red wire or the blue, but she knew one thing for certain - if she didn't do something he'd implode. 

"Michael? Please sit down." she asked out, but her words didn't seem to hit their target. He was too lost in his own head, reliving something that was clearly haunting him.  
It was a disturbing sight to see him stalking around the room so nervously, with his whole body tense and coiled like a spring. He kept stretching and rolling his neck, clenching his fists over and over as if wrestling with an invisible force. One that she knew she'd never unmask without reaching out to him in some way.

She tried desperately hard to resist the urge to pick at the hem of her skirt or the fabric on the arm of chair, while her mind raced and pulled up a dozen different explanation for his current demeanour. She wasn't one to jump to conclusions, but with so little to go on she began to fill with a worry that suggested the talk of his marriage from their last session -less than four days earlier- was in some way responsible for his current demeanour. 

That thought alone was disconcerting enough, but as he changed the direction of his pacing her eyes caught on a the sleeve of the black suit jacket he wore, and she noticed it had a stain on the arm. 

A large, dark, splatter of some kind. Long dried into the fabric but still tacky enough to be fairly recent. She didn't want to look too closely, fearing it wasn't just coffee and hoping like hell it wasn't a remnant of his long suffering wife. 

Her hand moved to her mouth and she began to nibble on her thumb nail, scrambling for a direction on how to handle the situation if he truly had done something terrible, as the evidence seemed to suggest. 

She had been feeling so uneasy in recent weeks, especially since their last meeting in which he revealed the truth depths of his animosity for his wife and his personal life. She had been troubled by how the words he spoke for the woman he'd married had made her feel inside, but she had to put her personal feelings aside and be there for him no matter what sins he was there to confess.

Silence remained blanketed over the room for several minutes, and the darkest of thoughts in her head grew more powerful with each silent second but eventually Michael stopped pacing and settled in front of the south facing windows. He reached out and parted the blinds with two fingers; looking out at the surrounding view and the street below. 

He wasn't sure if he was searching to see if the view had magically changed, or if he was checking if the building was surrounded by cop cars, but as he hoped things were just how he remembered. The familiar sight acted as a pressure release value, allowing just enough of the tension inside him to escape and make way for a small piece of clarity to pierce through the haze he'd been under since before dawn. 

He turned away from the window and looked back into the middle of the room. As soon as his eyes fell on her she pulled her nervous hand away from her mouth and sat up straight - ready and alert. It was obvious that his mood had served to only amplify her own anxiety and somewhere within him flicker of guilt skittered through his gut. 

He didn't mean to keep descending on her the way he did but he couldn't help himself. She was the only one who seemed to care, or appeared to come close to understanding all the troubles in his mind. It felt like she was the only person who could help him make sense of himself and the wrongs he kept on doing. 

Dr. Nardovino strengthened herself as best she could and decided she had to be proactive. Despite feeling so uneasy since their last meeting, she had to be strong and put her personal concerns aside to focus on the moment. He'd clearly done something very wrong and the truth needed to be coaxed out. Of course, she wasn't feeling especially brave, or confident surrounded by his distressed energy, but she was convinced herself she was ready to hear his confession. 

"Please sit down." she asked out again, softly almost a whisper in the silence, but this time somehow it penetrated. 

The tenderness and concern in her voice finally sliced clean through the dark static in his head and allowed some light in. Her big blue eyes seemed to call him closer; eyes that were full of concern and clearly troubled by the storm he'd dropped at her feet once again. 

He let out a reluctant sigh, pushing away the urge to flee as something him surrendered. His tense body gave, allowing his legs to lead him over to the spot he normally at in on the couch and the instant the back of his calves touched the soft seat, his knees folded and he dropped down onto the seat heavily. His burdened shoulders pushed him to lean forward, his forearms on his thighs with his hands keen to hold his troubled head. 

He wasn't entirely sure why his instinct had taken him to her. It wasn't as if she could do much to absolve him, and the fact had crossed his mind that seeing her might do more harm than good. He just needed to be around someone who understood and there had always been something about her that had said she did, right from the first moment he spilled his guts over her living room floor. The shadows in her eyes told him there were few things she hadn't seen herself or experienced in some way, and he desperately needed someone to help him make sense of the mess he was in. 

"What's happened?" she encouraged, worried that with only a short time passing since their last heated meeting could well mean he had troubling news about the state of home life. Blame to place at her feet, or perhaps something so much worse. 

Michael cast his eyes over to her, but still didn't speak. Despite having a million things he needed to have her help him address, he didn't know where to start. Adrenaline was still vibrating through his veins, causing his head to feel giddy and making it difficult to settle long a thought long enough to formulate a coherent word or two. 

"It doesn't look like you slept." she offered, hoping to draw him out from under the weight of his troubles. 

Michael sighed heavily, his eyebrows raised at little in the center, making him look far more innocent than his reputation should have allowed for. "That obvious, huh?" 

She nodded softly, relieved he'd finally spoken but unsure of what to say next herself. She didn't want to push him too hard, guessing that he had a lot of feelings to filter through before he could find the right place to begin expressing himself, or confessing to whatever it was he'd done. 

They looked at each other for a beat, showing an unspoken understanding which encouraged her to give him a little more breathing space for a moment or two. She dropped her eyes from his -scared to stare too long- and instead she forced herself to relaxed back into her chair. 

With him seated and still, her own unease downshifted a gear, making her feel as if she'd just witnessed a finger drop from the trigger of a gun. All she could do was hope the silence was some kind of comfort for his troubled mind, and he seemed to be content enough there in the quiet. The hum of the overhead air conditioner the only sound as their energy settled. 

Michael looked thoughtfully at his hands and absentmindedly picked some skin around his thumb nail. Everything about his behaviour seemed to suggest that he just wanted to be around someone who wasn't going to tare strips off him for whatever he was feeling, or what he'd done wrong this time but she needed to get him to talk. 

For her own sanity she needed to find out what had chased him to her once again. What was responsible for the waves of anxiety that were flowing off him, and what had caused the ominous stain on his jacket. She had to know what he'd done no matter how sinister, or where the true blame for his crimes might be placed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, that's it for now. I hope to be back to reveal all soon! As always, I'd love to know what you thought and if you enjoyed. Thanks for reading!


	13. For I Have Sinned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I know I left you hanging last chapter, and I apologize. Like I said before, this session is a pretty intense one, so one long chapter had to be chopped up into smaller bites as I don't want to be overwhelming you guys with everything that's said, in the next part especially. But as always I hope you enjoy this installment as much as the last. 
> 
> Huge thanks to everyone who made the effort to leave such awesome and encouraging feedback for me on chapter twelve, you guys are the best and what drives me to keep pushing with this fic.

The atmosphere in Dr. Nardovino's office was thick and heavy, as several tense minutes passed before Michael showed any signs of finally being able to vocalize what was going on inside of himself. The first sound to break the silence was a heavy sigh from his lungs. A deep, loaded breath which was an attempt to fill himself with the strength and clarity enough to speak, but the truth was he didn't know where to begin, or even if in fact he wanted to speak at all.

He made sure to never let anyone see him when he was dragged down into the darkest places his mind had to offer. It was far easier to lock himself away in a bathroom and wrestle with his demons in the mirror alone, than to risk anyone around him seeing a weakness or realizing just how much the burden of his misdeeds weighed on him. Yet for some reason this time, no matter how hard he'd tried to find a place to be by himself, lost in his own head, he'd wound up in her office instead. It seemed as if he'd developed an instinct to go to her in his time of distress and he didn't understand why, but sitting there with her concerned eyes burning into his skin like two blue flames was just the comfort and calm he needed. 

He guessed she was owed an explanation for his strung out appearance and how he'd turned up her doorstep once again without warning or invitation. He was making it a bad habit but something inside him kept pulling him to her; a small but powerful part of him seem convinced she was the help he needed, the salvation he'd tried find in so many other forms over the years. 

Eventually, he looked up from staring at his hands, turning his head to her and instantly noted the worry that was heavy in her eyes, but his mind skilfully tried to pull his focus away to more selfish interests. In a bid to try and trick himself into finding a distraction and release from the troubles on his shoulders. 

Of course he'd noticed her unintentionally revealing outfit the second he'd laid eyes on her out in the waiting room, and he'd been fully aware of how much skin she was showing off as he'd spent ten minutes pacing her office but the ball of negative energy wound within him hadn't allowed for his mind to wander into its favourite fantasy state, or even fully appreciate what she had unwittingly put on display for him. 

Even in feeling a little more relaxed after sitting down on the couch, all the familiar places he liked to hide in and seek comfort from were still blocked off to him. It was quickly becoming apparently that no amount of fixating on her physically was going to provide somewhere for him to run. The way she was sitting there staring at him, almost pleading for answers with widened eyes interfered with his attempt at escapism. There would be no way he could focus on any fantasy unless he shed the very real weight on his shoulders; he had to unload the pressures that was crippling every part of him. 

His thoughts and emotions were knotted up and pulling him in every direction marked on a compass, making it impossible to find the right way of starting to unravel everything he was battling with inside. However, being gently soaked in the tenderness and concern of her gaze and the quiet of the room slowly began to work his jaw loose. 

"That favour...." he finally began, speaking out into the tense silence. "....for Trevor....that I mentioned a few weeks back..." his eyes urged for her understanding, hoping he didn't have to go into the finer, gory details of just what crazy money making scheme his old running buddy had got him embroiled with. 

"I remember." she nodded, feeling a welcome blanket of relief fall over the knot of anxiety in her stomach. Just those few words relaxed her like she'd been medicated, easing the nauseating anxiety she'd felt since she had caught sight of the blood stain on the sleeve of his suit jacket. Knowing that his trouble seemingly wasn't rooted in the marital problems discussed in their session only four days earlier made the office seem bigger and brighter, but dark shadows still loomed over him. 

"Well, last night....I had to pay up... _in full_." instinctively he stopped himself from revealing too much. Taking a moment to search her eyes for understanding as he remained unsure just how far to go in explaining what he'd done, without giving away highly incriminating evidence. 

She knew it was terrible of her to feel such a way, but understanding that his troubles were of a more criminal nature than a spousal one seemed to kick the trembling nerves out of their prime location at her core, and allowed a path to clear. A little clarity was all she needed to help her find the switch that turned on her professional therapist mode. "And so how has that affected you?"

He held himself back from blurting out an impulsive angry rant, and his eyes scanned over her pretty face instead, searching for a sign that she was interested in his activities for more than the purposes of therapy and his self improvement. Even though it had been months, he was still troubled by the way his duplicitous former psychologist had played him, and knowing how she appeared to be two different people at times had as much potential for trouble as it held a dark appeal for him. 

He was putting a lot of faith in her to allow her to see him at his lowest -to learn of his secrets- and he knew it was foolish to be around anyone in his current state. He was always cautious with letting anyone see him struggle, and he went out of his way to avoid revealing real details of his crimes to anyone, but now it felt as if greater concern was for what might come of allowing her to see that his bravado was little more than an act. 

However, there was something about her that told him she'd never bought into his cool-tough-guy act anyway, unlike everyone else he'd encountered in life. She already knew so many of his secrets and he guessed knowing he didn't need to pretend around her was one of the biggest things that drew him to her light. That and the way she was with him, understanding yet unwilling to let him avoid taking responsibility for his actions. The way she saw things with a unique point of view had opened his mind to things he'd been ignorant of, and how she held her own with him -took none of his shit- had oddly endeared her to him.

Most powerful of all had been the emotions he'd repeatedly seen her reveal through her eyes, ones that had always said she possessed a much deeper understanding of his world than she was allowed to let on. Sensing such a thing had made him painfully curious for weeks but now, in his need for acceptance, he found it oddly comforting. It all had such a troubling way of encouraged him to consider dropping his guard and allowing himself to open up wider than he had ever done before, with anyone.

"Things didn't go as Trevor had planned..." he finally elaborated, feeling soothed by her calm but strong presence. "Shit got crazy, and people got hurt." he forced out against his guarded nature. 

Dr. Nardovino swallowed hard; she'd guessed he might say something along those lines but she wasn't quite prepared to actually hear him confess to it. She looked over his face and the damage was clear in his eyes. There was a strong sense of regret too but also a clear hint of distance. Like he was still fighting himself away from letting the guilt he'd been charged with truly absorb into his skin. 

She knew that process far too well and searched herself to find the reaction she was trained to give amongst her more instinctive human responses. She had to resist speaking out of turn, or offering him the kind of understanding response she would have once wanted to hear from someone herself years earlier, when she had been responsible for getting people hurt. 

"And how does that make you feel?" 

Michael tightened his mouth, quickly annoyed to hear a typical textbook response from her, but rather than being combative, he guessed it was better to go along with her lead. He was tired of bottling so much up in the aftermath of trauma, he knew it was unhealthy and it felt like every part of him needed to talk, to vent, to have someone make sense of what he was thinking and feeling. He needed someone to explain why the hell he'd allowed himself to fall deeply back into the lifestyle he'd tried so hard to run from.

"Awful!" he exclaimed, and slumped back into the couch. "I mean, they weren't good people, Doc." he tried to rationalize, but straight away he could see in her stern eyes that excuses and justifications didn't wash with her. 

Just as he'd come to know about her, she was going to hold him accountable and a large part of him desperately needed it. Despite being combative with many of those who tried to call him out on his behaviour, he felt that the way she did it was different. She spoke in his best interests, not her own, and he desperately needed someone to help him level himself out the way she seemed to. 

"...Not that it makes what happened any better...." he added quickly, trying to make it sound like he hadn't just spent the last ten tense minutes pacing around justifying his actions to himself in the silence of her office. 

"I'm glad you seem to be accepting responsibility." she offered, unsure of what else to say that complied with the protocol she needed to adhere to. 

The look in his eyes wordlessly said he was quickly growing tired of the detached shrink script -that he craved a more personal touch- but she was trying with all she had to remain professional, and prevent the true side of herself from surfacing.

She felt exposed in a low cut blouse and short skirt, vulnerable and unguarded without her notepad and glasses. All she had to hide behind now was what she remembered from her studies and training; protocol was all she could cling to. Afraid if she relaxed she might let her focus stray to how handsome he looked in the all black and perfectly tailored suit he was wearing. If she wasn't careful her true self would slip through the large gaping holes in her armour, offer him comfort or escape and potentially cause irreparable damage to both of them and the sketchy professional relationship they'd managed to forge. 

"I ain't saying I'm not at fault, Doc." he clarified. "But....I just dunno why I'm feeling like this right now. It ain't the first time I've killed a bunch of people....usually it's like water off a duck's back." he lied with false confidence. 

In the heat of the moment, and even after the dust settled, he rarely felt guilt, but for every life he took, and every crime he committed a scar was left inside him which revealed itself by opening up to sting painfully whenever he was alone with his demons. 

"So what's different this time?" she frowned, sensing he wasn't being entirely honest about normally being so complacent in his actions. 

He shrugged, unsure of himself or what to tell her. "I dunno...." he thought for a deeper understanding of what he'd been going through for the past few hours but nothing was clear amongst the cocktail of emotions within him. "...I guess maybe...it's because we didn't expect anyone to be there....When you know people are gonna get hurt before hand, you can kind of prepare yourself for it. _You know?_ " he asked waiting for confirmation that she was still following before continuing. 

She nodded but glanced away quickly. Silently hoping her eyes hadn't betrayed her again, by revealing just how deeply she did understand exactly where he was coming from. 

His words caused a long neglected memory to spark in the depths of her mind, and as she stared at the coffee table in front of her, silently wishing for her glasses and notepad to magically float over to her. Needing to remind herself of who she was now; desperate for a way to hide her own secrets and sins from him. She could already feel that intense magnetism he seemed to have whenever he touched on something that she had first had experience of, and without some kind of shield from it she feared she'd crumble hopelessly at his feet the next time he pushed. 

Michael could sense something had stirred her inside and he wanted to chase it out of her, force her to reveal herself to him, but the very fact that she did seem to understand caused his mouth to run away from him instead. 

"I mean I've been doin' this a long time...." he continued. "A _real_ long time. In the heat of the moment, I don't feel nothin' no more, just get the job done. 'Cause you know, you kinda justify it all to yourself before you have to pick up the gun, _right?_ " he asked rhetorically. For some reason he knew she understood how he felt in some way, even though he assumed it was unlikely an educated, classy looking, young woman like her had ever picked up a gun in her life. "....But walking in and findin' things ain't like you thought they were gonna be...." he trailed off, turning his head away from her, looking around for some kind of distraction from the grimly destructive visions dancing across his eyes. The ones that usually only came when he was alone, and the volume of the world around him was turned down. 

Dr. Nardovino's felt uneasy with the information he gave her. Worried by how to handle his confession and troubled deeply by the way his words tapped into a long buried part of herself once again. Thankfully she had always been good at thinking on her feet, rolling-with-the-punches, and she quickly searched past her instincts to her studies instead. 

However, nothing she'd learned had ever covered being the person a criminal ran to in the aftermath of a brutal crime. She wasn't sure how to control or dismiss the urges she had to offer comfort and forgiveness that she knew all too well he was craving, but she couldn't be seen to justify or support his action as his therapist, and she wouldn't allow herself to do it as a human being either. 

"And what if things had been as you anticipated, but people had still been hurt. Would you have been feeling this way in that instance?" she asked, trying not to let her voice falter or her mind cloud over with troubled thoughts. 

Michael turned his head back to look at her. "Of course!" he cried, defensively. "Just....not this soon." she frowned at him, asking for him to elaborate. "Not directly after, but when things had calmed down, when I'm by myself...no distractions. _At night._ You know?" she nodded, her eyes bright with her familiar look of understanding, that sang out to him so clearly. Making something deep inside him niggle and pull him another inch closer to her. 

"They weren't good people, Doc." he clarified again, for his own benefit more than hers. "And maybe...." he hesitated, unsure if he should say what he was really thinking, worried what she might think of him for admitting such a thing, but before he could talk himself out of it, his jaw was loose and running wild. "...I guess....I ain't really feelin' all that bad about what happened, that some scumbags got killed and all, but maybe I'm just more upset about why the fuck I keep lettin' myself get pulled into doin' this kinda shit....Why I can't leave it alone?" he grumbled, releasing so much of what he'd held bottled up and clearly talking about more than just his favour to Trevor. "....Ever since that shit with my wife and her tennis coach....my life has been crazy!" he exclaimed, feeling as if the cork that stopped up all the contradictory emotions with him was about to be popped. "I spent the best part of ten fuckin' years keepin' my head down, saying out of trouble, avoiding everyone because I didn't think I could control myself....and now with that one thing she did....it's un-fuckin'-ravelled everythin'. Now it's like all trouble has to do is wave and me and I'm all over. I can't help myself! I can't seem to get my head back into where I was for all those years, I've tried, but....I just can't resist doing this kinda shit! I should have no fuckin' worries at all, yet here I am, makin' new Goddamn problems for myself and bringing back all the risks I tried to run from."

Dr. Nardovino nodded; relieved that he was finally being honest about where his anxiety was truly rooted. She had guessed he wasn't entirely consumed with guilt for the blood on his hands, but more the anguish for being unable to resist criminal temptations. 

"And why do you think you're doing this to yourself?" she asked, trying to keep focused purely on him and now the way his confessions played to long buried parts of herself. 

"I dunno!" he cried, a little more harshly than he'd intended, but he quickly backpedalled softening his tone a little. "I wish I understood it. I really fuckin' hate that I keep lettin' myself get pulled into this kinda shit. It ain't about money no more, and I'm not even unhappily retired, I've got a legit job, for fuck sake! Everythin' is how I want-" for some reason the words slammed to a holt in his throat and his eyes caught on hers, staring intensely for a beat before his jaw relaxed. Words rushing to spill out of his mouth to correct and clarify the thought he'd unconsciously attempted to voice. ".... _Almost_ , everythin' is how I want it to be. " he revealed before pausing to maintain his penetrating gaze, which made her look away and shift nervously in her seat. 

She didn't dare consider what he was getting at but the feel of his eyes on her, burning through her skull into her brain was leaving little room for doubt. He was testing her, deliberately or accidentally she wasn't certain, but she had to be strong against his eyes that were trying to dig for the reaction and answers he needed from her. Steely blue that searched for some indication that she understood where his head was at and what he was indirectly trying to say. Hungering for reassurance that she'd picked up the not-so subtle hints he was dropping down for her. 

"If everything is how you want it to be," she deflected, choosing her words deliberately; trying to avoid giving any mixed messages or indications that she'd latched onto his heavy-handed insinuation. "...why do you think you keep allowing yourself to do these kinds of things?" her throat was tight but it didn't show in her voice. 

She was giving all she had to try and bolster her guard without the physical tools she usually had at her disposal. Doing her utmost to ignore the thoughts in her head and the familiar yet ever troubling feelings that were blossoming again in her stomach. 

She was being tested and she had to hold fast and avoid making all the mistakes she knew she'd fall helplessly into without her professional shield at full strength. 

"Fucked if I know." he growled, annoyed that she'd dodged him the way she had, but not having the push he needed to confront her directly about it in that moment. 

An awkward silence fell over them for a moment or two. She adjusted herself in her seat, avoiding meeting his eyes as they drifted down to her long bare legs. Hungrily gobbling up the sight of her exposed thigh, making her shift and tug at the hem of her skirt. Sending a flicker of a familiar dirty thought through his mind, but the emotions within him were too powerful and overwhelming to allow him to stray to a more enjoyable mindset. 

"I can't seem to resist this shit." he uttered, silently suggesting that _'this shit'_ didn't just cover nefarious activities but also the draw to other behaviours that could negatively impact on certain areas of his personal life. 

He tried hard not to notice the way she subtly pulled at the hem of her skirt, like she was afraid of the way he was looking at her. A simple action but enough to pull in all of his focus and tighten a small band of tension across his stomach. He wasn't sure if it was arousal, or annoyance but he knew he had to step back from the edge he was moving ever closer to. 

"Like just before we met..." he spoke out on impulse, desperate to distract himself from the ever increasing urge to screw things up for himself even more, by pouncing on her and forgetting his sins in losing himself inside her. "....I spent weeks playing the long-con on those fuckers from the Epsilon cult...." he pulled his gaze from her legs and caught her eyes. 

Despite her discomfort in the way he was ogling her again, she'd raised her eyebrows in surprise at hearing such a thing. " _Really?_ " 

He nodded casually, feeling something inside him relax with the distraction he'd created for himself. One that would help him try to avoid addressing the real issues he'd come to her holding. "To be honest, I dunno why I even looked at their fuckin' website, but somethin' there gave me that feelin' like it was trouble I needed to get into and I couldn't resist it." he confessed. 

"And what did they have you do?" she asked cautiously, worried that he'd been warped by a phony religion that was rapidly claiming a dominion over Vinewood. 

"Don't worry, Doc. They didn't brainwash me or nothin'." he assured. "I'm an idiot, but I'm ain't a fuckin' _gullible_ idiot!" she was clearly relieved and it seemed to inject an unusual feeling of empowerment into his veins, just to know someone was concerned for him in such a way. He was painfully aware of just how few people ever seemed to give a shit about his wellbeing but he knew it was deserved. "...Everyone at home thought I'd lost my Goddamn mind....but I guess I kinda got a kick out of that." 

"Why?" she asked. "Surely that must have impacted on your reconciliation with your wife?" 

Michael thought for a beat, irritated by the fact he'd been reminded of his marriage by her again, but he didn't let it show. "Yeah, it did." he nodded. "But....I guess I didn't really care. The niceties had started to wear off by then anyhow!" 

"So, do you think you were looking for a way to distract yourself, or perhaps punish her?" 

His eyebrows furrowed almost angrily at what she was suggesting. "The only one who was punished with all that shit was me!" he growled bitterly. "The shit they had me do was fuckin' insane. Runnin' five Goddamn miles in the middle of the fuckin' desert! I thought I was gonna fuckin' die!" he insisted, not realizing he was looking for sympathy until she didn't show any. ".....Maybe I was tryin' to punish _myself_.... for somethin'..." he admitted and a glint of something similar to triumph danced across her eyes, tempting him to anger, but he resisted. "....I dunno, but I knew it was ridiculous. I guess it was just trouble to get into, someone to fuck with and I couldn't resist." 

"And so how did this..." she searched for the right word. "... _involvement_ with the program resolve itself?"

"You not hear 'bout it on the news?" he asked almost smugly. "A big shootout, couple downed choppers and a car crash."

He appeared to be boasting, and she wasn't impressed in the slightest. "So something you entered into frivolously, for your own amusement, again wound up getting people killed?" she asked a little too harshly. 

He scowled at her, not liking the way she phrased his actions in such a way. "Well, when you put it like that." his tone was sarcastic, goading almost but she didn't bite. 

"And I assume there have been repercussions for this?"

"Nah." he dismissed casually. "I mean their weirdo leader called me up, cursed me out, told me he'd ruin me, but it's been a couple months now and I ain't heard nothin'." he relaxed back into the couch almost cockily. "They're too busy worryin' about the exchange rates in the fifth paradigm or whatever-the-fuck, and I doubt they got the time to worry about me when they're tryin' to remember who the fuck everyone is with the names they keep switchin'." 

Dr. Nardovino didn't have any understanding of the project itself, beyond what she'd read in passing through the news, but she couldn't help feeling it was a little imprudent to have such a lack of concern, however she assumed he knew best. 

Despite everything the new information he'd revealed to her was useful and went along perfectly with the developing a theory she had for his behaviour. An understanding that she'd already built based on her predecessors notes. It was something she was itching to reveal to him, in the hope that it would help unlock something within him that would lead to him making positive life changes, but she knew it was unwise to delve so deeply in an impromptu session. 

"So, do you feel these crimes have somehow gone unpunished?" she asked out, almost cryptically. 

"Crimes?" Michael scoffed and pulled a face. "All the shit they had me do, all the fuckin' money they milked outta me, _that_ was the fuckin' crime....and I think I deserved a little payback." 

"But you weren't forced to do any of those things. You actively chose to participate. To con those people into trusting you?"

"No. It wasn't like that." he defended, getting increasingly more annoyed with how she was making him think about his actions far too much. 

"Well then what was it like?" she asked out, with a hint of scorn; her true self getting a firm grip on her professional mask and threatening to tear it clean off her face. 

"I dunno!" he snapped. "It was a bitta fun. Jesus Christ. I was bored, it was somethin' to do." her expression was tight, unimpressed and almost angered by his foolishness. "Don't tell me you're fuckin' one of those baby blue wearing pricks?" he asked with stern eyebrows. 

What was happening wasn't what he'd come to her for. It wasn't the support and comfort he needed. He had gone to find her with the intention of finding some reassurance and understanding for the new crimes he'd committed, not to be handed fresh guilt and reprimand for older ones.

She almost rolled her eyes at him but resisted. "No. Absolutely not." she confirmed. "I just can't help but feel your actions were significantly selfish and damaging to those around you." 

"Yeah. It's the habit of a fuckin' lifetime, in case you hadn't noticed!" he hissed at her, bitter for the way in which she was making him look back on his actions and realize just how wrong he'd been. He thought he'd wanted her to make him accountable, but it didn't feel as cathartic as he'd imagined. 

"So you don't feel bad about killing those people and taking money that wasn't yours?" 

"I never said that!" he barked, his anger coming to the boil. "Of course I feel bad. I didn't mean to kill people over it, but it happened. You deal with that shit and move the fuck on!"

She opened her mouth to speak, her hidden side wanting to bolt for freedom with the urge to tell him how contradictory and egotistical he was being. It seemed as if he needed to be reminded of the ways in which his actions would have impacted on others; the family and friends of those caught in the crossfire, but she knew it would be a harsh play. She'd lived with the grief of loss which came as a result of her own selfish actions, and she'd seen plenty of others come to her for help with dealing with the wounds people like him left on others. 

She wanted to yell at him, to scream, and make him realize how much damaged he'd done to the world beyond the end of his own nose, but somehow she held herself back. Despite his bluster she could tell he was hurting underneath it all, and she didn't want to burden him further. Especially as she knew if she continued to push at him the way she was, things would explode between them.

She had to try and put everything into perspective, placing blame and dishing out guilt wasn't going to resolve anything. It would likely only serve to push him further into his destructive behaviours. She had to find a way to explain his deeper motivations for such behaviours in the hope of helping him understand himself, and in turn preventing him from repeating his careless and selfish actions again further down the line. 

She understood his disposition well enough and the theory she held about why he couldn't shake his criminal habits was itching to reveal itself, but in order to express her point of view to him she needed to dig deeper. Steer away from focusing on his childish activities born from boredom and the urge to chase trouble and punishment, to find the true root cause and explanation for his deep flaws. 

Her time for digging into his inner workings had come and she knew that by going deeper into him, she would risk revealing too much of herself. She had to be stronger than before, to not allow herself to feel vulnerable by how she was dressed, or the lack of props to hide behind. She couldn't absorbing the pull she felt to him, sensing that he was looking for any possible distraction -especially a physical one- from the complex and contradictory emotions that plagued him. 

One false move would likely send them spiralling down into the dark pit that housed their desires for one another, along with all the immoral and unethical things that lurked there and threatened to impact on much more than just their professional relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I promise their relationship is going to evolve very soon and so hang in there as there's only a little bit more digging around in Michael's head to come before the big pay off happens haha! I hope you're all still enjoying the story, and as always, I would love to hear what you think. Thanks for reading!


	14. Crime and Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! First and foremost, thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos on the last chapter, it really means so much to me. Secondly, I'm sorry leaving you guys hanging for an update for so long, but this chapter has been a real pain in the ass. I've re-written it about ten times and I'm now at the point where I'm just like "just post it already, get it over with!" haha! This is a long and pretty heavy chapter, but I hope it makes for an enjoyable read. 
> 
> During the game itself, I felt that Michael didn't really get a lot of in depth back story in the game, in regards to his upbringing and such, the way that Trevor and Franklin did. There are a lot of hints and clues about his past but they are mostly all shown outside of the main storyline/missions. So needless to say in my hours of milking every last drop out of this game, I have developed many head-canons about who Michael was in his youth, and what made him the complicated mess he is when we meet him. While I think most of my character analysis fits with canon, I hope it makes sense to how you guys see him too. Enjoy!

"So how do you intend to cope with the consequences of what happened earlier with Trevor?" Dr. Nardovino asked out, with caution. She was feeling ill at ease with the way her true nature hungered to break free and the way his eyes seemed to linger a moment too long on her exposed legs. She knew it would have been wise to wrap things up quickly, or at best move away from delving into Michael's past crimes with the Epsilon Project, but there was a pull within her told the opportunity had come to dig deeper into his mind. 

Of course she knew that it was risky to venture further below his surface than she had before in that moment, given the fact her first patient of the day was probably already on their way to her office, but she had to try and do what she could in the time she had left. 

She needed to try and make him understand himself, his actions and the motivations for them, even if it would put her at risk of being too forceful with him. There was potential for unravelling and altering the structure of their relationship, perhaps for the worst, but he needed to acknowledge a great number of things in order to break the cycle he'd trapped himself in. 

Michael thought for a moment, and then shrugged. He was trying so hard not to let himself get irritated by how she was acting; ever more the composed shrink than the feisty young woman he'd bounced off in her living room not so long ago. 

He was also starting to become unsure of just how much he truly did enjoy the way she stood up to him. The way she had forced him to be held accountable for his actions wasn't pleasant, and of course he'd never admit to wrong doing, but somewhere amongst it all he found relief and an odd sense of pleasure in the way her words seemed to punish him just enough to sting but without breaking the skin. 

"I dunno." he finally said on a sigh, his mood calming enough to allow his thoughts to return to the fresher batch of culpability he was carrying on his back. "The frustration and the guilt has a habit of infectin' fuckin' everythin'." 

She lowered her eyes thoughtfully; again she related to his words far more than she could let on or dared to let him see. "So, how do you intend to handle those kind of feelings?" 

Michael gave a soft but empty laugh. "Same as I always do. Drink 'em away." 

"Guilt isn't such a terrible thing, you know? It can help us grow and change." she offered, absentmindedly picking at her thumb nail and still longing for the shields she normally had at her disposal. 

Michael laughed again, more sardonically this time. "Doc? I've been feelin' guilty for one thing or another for most of my life and it ain't made me change yet. I still keep makin' the same Goddamn mistakes." 

"But you have to _want_ to let yourself change." she told him just as she had done once before; as if she was speaking from experience. "Like I said, you need to ask yourself if you want to change...or considered that perhaps you enjoy doing these things, to punishing yourself."

"I'm not a masochist, Doc." he defended. 

"A few minutes ago you admitted that you may have become involved with the Epsilon Project as a way to punish yourself." she reminded him and his eyes narrowed, more to scrutinize her than to show hostility for the way she pulled him up on his own shit. "So forgive me for thinking that you are. You seem to indulge in emotional masochism more than you realize, or perhaps care to admit." 

Michael narrowed his eyes and tightened his mouth, annoyed again by her accuracy and determination to make him acknowledge his own flaws. "Didn't you once tell me you don't put people in boxes?" 

"I try not to, but your pattern of behaviour suggests that some part of you, conscious or not, enjoys this kind of suffering." 

"That's bullshit!" he cried. "Who the fuck enjoys sufferin'?" 

"People who continually make the same mistakes, despite knowing the outcome will always have some kind of negative impact of them and the things they value." she offered. "Ring any bells?" 

Michael cut his eyes from her, hating that she was right about him so often. He had always considered himself guarded and hard to read in his contradictory behaviours, but she had a knack for seeing through him. Maybe it was the pile of notes she'd read on him, years worth of pouring his heart out to his former therapist, or perhaps that understanding look in her eye that he kept catching sight of had more to answer for that he first thought. 

He let a silence fall, taking a few moments to stew over what she'd said, to roll a few thoughts around in his hazy head. He needed a little clarity and a smart or sarcastic comeback to disarm her, but before he knew it he was speaking candidly. "So how would a guy stop being an emotional masochist, if he was one?" 

Dr. Nardovino admired his natural craftiness in avoiding admitting she was onto something. If things in his past were as she'd assumed, she knew it was unlikely he could ever stop. It was near impossible to change the habit of a lifetime, unless something really lit a fire under a person's ass, and she was unsure how hot a fire had to burn to change a man like him. 

She took a deep but audible breath, knowing things needed to go deeper and become more intense than ever before, despite the fact they were on borrowed time outside of a scheduled appointment. If she was smart, she would have worked around it, or at least told him to save his train of thought until they could meet officially in a couple of days time, but she wasn't feeling too smart. She was feeling a troubling level of concern for him, and she needed to do something to put his issues into perspective once and for all, right there and then. 

"Tell me about your parents." she asked out, knowing it was now or never to begin circling her wagons ready to hit him with some reality and understanding of himself. 

Michael rolled his eyes away from her dismissively and blew out a frustrated sigh. "What the hell do they have to do with anythin'?" he groaned. Talking about his childhood wasn't what he'd gone to her for that morning, hell - it was the last thing he ever wanted to speak about. 

"Well, you asked why you keep repeating the same pattern of behaviours, to answer that question we have to work back through the past." she gave with a disarming finesse.  
Michael shook his head dismissively and let his eyes roam over the room, trying to fight giving in to her. He wasn't interested in talking about his family, his shitty upbringing - that wasn't why he'd come to her. He wanted comfort and understanding for his current wrong doings, not to unleash the ghosts he'd sealed away within the fabric of himself. 

She sensed his apprehension and lack of understanding in her direction, so she spoke up again. "I know you covered a lot of this with Dr. Friedlander, so you'll probably feel it's just rehashing old ground...I also know that you only came here looking for absolution...." 

With that Michael shot his eyes back to her, full with surprise that she'd actually caught on and called him out on his true motives for running to her. 

"I'm not going to forgive your sins for you, Michael." she told him flatly. "I can't. That's not for me to do." she insisted and his eyes softened, filling with a glow of sadness that resembled a disappointed child. "I'm just trying to help you understand why you do what you do. Why you're locked into this cycle." 

Michael's eyes fell closed and he lent forward, putting his head in his hands and took a few moments to gather his thoughts. Deciding on how best to handle the situation, as her eyes concentrated and encouraging warmth through him. 

He knew she wanted to help him, and something about that made him feel good inside. He wasn't exactly burdened with an abundance of people who cared about him, and even though he knew she was just like the other women he paid for attention, he couldn't help but feel like she cared far more than she was allowed to professionally. 

The feel of her pretty eyes on him, warm and supported called out like a beacon to the lost ghosts inside him, inviting them forward to reveal themselves in the hopes of finally being understood, healed and laid to rest once and for all. 

He took a deep strengthening breath, pushed back his apprehension and sat up straight ready to take her head on. "I already told you my dad was an angry asshole. He drank and he hit. He was a douchebag." he informed tonelessly, like he was reading a shopping list, showing his attempt at emotional detachment but Dr. Nardovino saw clean through it. "My mom was a good woman though. Always trying to please him, puttin' up with his shit...the drinkin', the cheating, the violence....She tolerated everythin' but...I think she got more disconnected every time he hurt her. She was left sittin' around waitin' for him to come back when he ran off for months on end. Tellin' me and everyone else a dozen different stories about where he was, why he was gone this time..." 

"It seems like there are some similarities between you and your mother." 

Michael made a face. "How?" he'd never considered he was like the woman who raised him. 

"Well, I read in your notes that honesty has been an obstacle for you, and you feel like you have told too many stories to keep track of at times...." she looked at him expectantly, feeling it best not to elaborate further or give examples of how his compulsive lying mirrored what he said about his mother. Silently hoping he'd connect the dots himself, and thankfully he nodded. "And if we look at your own marriage you and your wife have a history of not getting along, cheating on each other, and yet you have-" she stopped short and quickly changed tack. "... _both of you_ have put up with it, but in doing so you've both become detached from each other, and your children." she stopped there, the look on his face told her he completely understood what she was saying. 

Michael digested that for a moment before speaking again. "I guess I always thought.... _feared_ I was just like my dad." 

Dr. Nardovino didn't want to confirm or deny that much, but she felt she didn't need to. "How so?" she asked, hoping he would voice the thoughts that were heavy in his mind. 

"Look at me!" he cried, his voice strained with oncoming emotions. "I'm an angry asshole. I'm violent. I'm drunk. I'm always sayin' mean shit and doin' the wrong thing. I was never there for my kids when they were growing up, I was always out there running from one score to the next...and I fucked 'em up good in the process." he said angry at himself. "That was something I thought I'd tried real hard not to do, but...everything is still fucked." he confessed, his voice tight as he tried to keep the long buried feelings within him restrained. "I wasn't ready to be a dad. I don't think I even know how to be a decent father." he confessed. "But I didn't want to be a deadbeat asshole like mine was, or have my kids feel about me the way I felt about him...." his voice trailed off suggesting he didn't want to further acknowledge his own truths and those of his current home life. 

Dr. Nardovino felt a cold tightness in her stomach as she realized there were so many more issues at work, ones which she'd have to help him deal with as best she could. "Did you ever confront your father about his beha-"

"Of course!" Michael cut her off, annoyed with himself for how he was so openly blurting out details of his past and his inner thoughts. "....But it just got me a fat lip or the belt. You learned to put-up and shut-up in my house." his eyes seemed three or four shades darker in colour than she was familiar with, old memories stirring the anguish deep within him. "And once I got old enough to really stand up to him, he kicked me out." 

The pain of his past was written all over his face as old memories and the emotions that went with them began to break through the protective crust that had grown to cover them over the years. He never let it show but he walked with his past every day and did all he could he could to avoid ever thinking of those times directly, knowing it would only serve to deepen the wounds that still hadn't healed. 

"Did your father ever show you love?" Dr. Nardovino asked delicately. 

Michael sighed heavily. "What the hell does this have to do with the fact I keep going out and killing people for money?" he exclaimed, angry that he wasn't getting what he'd initially wanted from the impromptu session. 

She didn't speak, but her eyes hardened, silently telling him that she did have a point she was going to get to, but he had to work with her.  
Giving another heavy but submissive sigh his shoulders sank and he dropped back into the couch again. "No. He didn't." he relented, his arms lose and defeated at his sides, showing his guard was truly down. "Nothin' I ever did was good enough for him." 

"In what way?" 

He really didn't want to get into it, his old scars didn't like to be split open. He certainly didn't like to think of how the same could be said for his own children, and how he was constantly demanding more from them than they could give. 

"You're gonna need to get a few drinks in me before we start with this _tragic-backstory_ bullshit." he joked, holding a wish within himself that she _would_ suggest hitting a bar. A little alcohol would surely help her loosen up and shake off the shrink mask once and for all. Opening her up instead would be the perfect distraction from being forced to look in on himself again. 

She titled her head to the side and gave him that look again, the one that sent a rush of warmth though his frozen insides. He didn't know how she did it, but she had a real knack of loosening his lips and making him spill out everything he'd tried to bottle up inside. 

He found his eyes were starting to roam over her again, effortlessly distracting him from the stirring pain inside. Taking in her form, from the tips of her black leather heels, up the long toned legs that he had been hungering to see again. Moving up and pausing on dark fabric of her skirt pulled tight across her lap, giving a small dark teaser of what awaited further up between her thighs. His eyes drifted on, up to her chest, gazing at the deep valley between her full breasts that looked so warm and soft. Even amongst the storm of anxiety inside him, he still wanted her. Taking her in that moment would have been the perfect remedy for the chaotic mess of emotions he felt raging inside. There was no better way to forget himself that in the body of a willing woman. 

Dr. Nardovino cleared her throat, hoping to break the lusty glaze away from his eyes and resist being overcome by the heat he generated within her. She knew he was just trying to find a way to run from what she was asking, and despite feeling increasingly more and more exposed, she had no intention of letting him escape her spotlight. 

She had to be strong, and stop focusing on the heavy stubble around his jaw that promised to scratch so magically. She needed to ignore the way his black shirt had several buttons undone to reveal a triangle of his bare chest. The moment called for her to be the professional therapist he needed, not a lusty damsel who seemed to be unable to stop letting her fantasies get the better of her. 

"Can you give me an example of how he handled your successes?" she asked out, grasping for any thread of professional integrity she could. 

Michael caved instantly; his hunger for her had been swallowed up by his angst the moment he lost concentration on her full red lips when they started to move.  
Bitterly, he abandoned his endeavour to disappear into lust riddled thoughts, and turned his focus inward, to darker topics. Despite not welcoming the idea of discussing his twisted childhood, something about her manner and their unusual connection made him want to explore his past with her at his side. He wanted to find out what she had to say about it all, in the hope that her advice and understanding could help better him, or at least in some way soothe the decades of anguish he still felt. 

"Say I did well on a test or somethin'...." he began. "...I was never that great in class or anything, but this one time, I got a B plus, _in biology_ , and I was real proud of myself...." the tone of his voice said that he was _still_ proud; even so many years later the young boy inside him still craved approval. "...but it wasn't good enough for him - I shoulda got an A." he growled softly looking to her for a marker to continue, but she didn't nod, instead only silently encouraging him to reveal more details with her soulful eyes. "...If I passed the winnin' touchdown, it wasn't enough because the play was all wrong in his eyes, or someone else played better than I did or whatever-the-fuck!" he snapped, waving his hand dismissively. "I got offered a football scholarship to college, but that wasn't enough either, he said I was gettin' ideas above my station....Nothin' I ever did was right wherever he was concerned...It always felt like whenever I did somethin' good... _somethin' special_ , he had to bring me down to earth, punish me for feelin' like I was actually worth something." he told her, his voice straining with barely buried emotion. "What the fuck is the point of dredgin' up this shit, Doc?"  
She felt something stir in her heart for the sadness she saw in his eyes but she refused to let herself acknowledge it. Instead, she adjusted herself in her seat, making sure her skirt hadn't ridden up any further, before leaning forward a little to level with him. "I believe that you're in this cycle because of your past. I think you've somehow come to associate success with punishment and your formative years were poisoned by feelings of failure and underachievement." 

"Is this supposed to be news to me?" he growled, feeling defensive due to being exposed. 

"No, but my point is going to be. I hope." she said kindly, but he wasn't taking it. 

"So get to the fuckin' point already!" he snapped angrily. All the long ignored emotions from his past paired up with the guilt and regret for his recent actions were tempting him to act out, drawing his eyes to her exposed skin. He was longing to find a physical distraction from the pain inside him, an escape that would allow him to feel something beyond the hurt he was being ruthlessly reminded of. 

His roaming eyes and harsh tone caused a heated darkness to bubble up inside her. She hated how he was allowed to be rude and curt with her but she was always supposed maintain the guise of a polite professional. It was becoming ever more difficult to be calm and tolerant with his attitude, especially while feeling so exposed in the clothes she wore and without her glasses or notepad to hide behind. 

The oddly unsettled feeling she held inside for the way he kept looking at her called out to her hidden, aggressive and impulsive, inner nature, tempting her to react. The hostility she felt for his attitude began to override her anxiety and feelings of vulnerability, steadily filling her with a confidence to sit up straighter in her chair, with stern eyes. Warning that if he didn't lose the attitude, he'd tip the balance and wind up getting a lot more from his treatment than he anticipated. 

"If I recall correctly from your notes, you took your first score aged twenty-three?" she asked out, reminding herself that she had to try to be professional and restrain her more natural reactions to his attitude and behaviours. Despite his goading, she needed to keep calm and use the injection of confidence she was feeling to keep control of the situation. It would be a delicate process to make him understand and accept the reality she saw around him; overreacting or calling him out now would blow everything. She needed to work up to the theory and truth she hoped to make him see. The journey required a gentle touch that she had to try and maintain, against her better judgement. 

Michael almost groaned at her question, again she was dancing around whatever point she was getting to, but he despite the frustration within himself he nodded to confirm her assumption. 

"And what did you do before that, between high school and then?" she asked, knowing well enough already that he'd messed up his future by allowing his aggression to ruin his shot of playing football in the big leagues one day. 

"After my dad kicked me out, I had nothing...no one...so I had to get a job, right?" he asked rhetorically. "Got a couple different ones... bussin' tables, shit like that, construction too, but they didn't pay too good and I didn't like bein' bossed around." he told, noting how her eyes flashed with recollection for the way she'd once pulled him up on taking shortcuts in his life. "And it was borin', real fuckin' borin'..." he added to alter her mindset. "....So, I guess somewhere along the line I ended up fallin' in with a crowd that knew how to make fast money. Used my old influences from high school over the local kids to sell dope on the side, earn a little extra."

"And what happened as a result of that?" she had studied all the background information Dr. Friedlander had written thoroughly, in order to try and find a way to help him, once and for all but she wanted to hear it from him. Hear his tone, read his body language, and see his eyes when he traced back over his life. 

"Wasn't much of a drug trade on my doorstep, so the cops knew who to come for. I got caught, did time." he said flatly. Annoyed that they were way off the topic he came to her with, but oddly relieved she was making him think of something other than the confusion he had for his repeated bad behaviour. "....I met some more connections inside..." he revealed. "Got released, tried to go straight....but you know? No one's hiring a nineteen year old kid who's got no experience and jail time against his name...."

"So what did you do?"

Michael knew she had to have read the story already, he'd gone over it with Friedlander years earlier but for some strange reason he wanted her to hear it from him directly. He'd got the impression his former shrink would have been less than sympathetic to the plight of a young failed jock. "I got in touch with the guys I met inside, started runnin' drugs all around the place and other shit like that....and it all escalated from there, got caught again and..." he stopped short, frustration getting the better of him. " _Why?_ What's the point here, Doc? Seriously? What has this got to do with anythin'?" 

She wasn't going to reveal her interpretation of his behaviour and character too soon, not until she had clarified the facts with him. She was unsure how much she should trust Friedlander's notes based on how much animosity he seemed to have for his long-term patient. She'd discovered his documentation of their sessions together had grown increasingly more unsympathetic and less tolerant as the years passed. 

"So for all intents and purposes, you'd been on a criminal career path for twenty some years, before your retirement? Is that correct?" she asked, trying to keep on track and not fall into the strange urges inside her. Ones that threatened to reveal a dozen different emotions that would destroy all she'd tried to create with him. 

"Yeah. What you gettin' at?" 

"I know that Dr. Friedlander mentioned this to you in the past, but I feel that besides your apparent need to constantly seek a punishment for any achievements you earn-" Michael cut in. 

"Whadda you mean by that?" 

She tilted her head to the side again and gave him a look that said - _'really?'_ as if she knew he was already fully aware of what she was getting at. His response came only as raised his eyebrows, silently questioning her in return and encouraging her to explain herself. 

She looked away from him and scratched the back of her head softly, considering for a moment that he was playing her to avoid the situation. His eyes were on her chest again, and she was starting to think he didn't even realize he was doing it. 

However despite her concerns for her approach and a hidden agenda within him, she took a deep breath and clarified her point. "Well, the way I see it is that either you have a need to be punished whenever you feel like you've done something impressive, or that you can't stand actually feeling like you're safe and secure and have some innate desire to destroy it whenever you feel you have it." 

"What are you talkin' about?" he scowled. 

"Well, let's take a look at your life here Michael." she said, trying not to sound as patronizing as she knew would. "For just one example, even though you have absolutely no need to go out and commit crimes, and the fact you have a legitimate career on the table at Richard's Majestic, you still continue to go about doing bad things that put everything you have gained at risk."

"I didn't have a choice." Michael defended angrily.

"Really?" she asked with raised eyebrows, and his eyes narrowed at her. "Or did you just tell yourself that because in some indirectly way couldn't handle the fact you've succeeded in life?" the confidence with which she spoke unnerved Michael, as did the knowledge that she was onto something. "You've got your dream job, financial security, your family is back with you. You've found legitimacy, so why would you risk sabotaging it all for owning someone a favour?" something stung inside him and his mouth tightened to silence to darkly defensive words that hungered to escape his lips. 

Dr. Nardovino sensed she was getting to him, but it only fuelled her confidence to push. "We both know you feel like you need to involve yourself with danger and extremes to avoid being average, but your recent actions aren't do with that, because simply by being a movie producer you're doing something that only a tiny percent of the population ever get to do. That is something that makes you high above average." her words were what he needed to hear, but Michael still gave a warning glare. "So forgive me, if I can't understand why you would continue to put your success at risk, unless you actually want to have it fail as some form of punishment for how you achieved it all in the first place." 

Michael tensed; she'd handed him far too much to digest and even though he already knew she was right, his automatic response was to shut her down. "I didn't come here for a lecture." he growled through clenched teeth. 

"No, you came here for me to absolve you of your sins and I told you, I can't do that." she told firmly, making his eyes darken further. "You're the only one who can forgive yourself for what you've done, and to forgive you have to understan-" 

"The only thing I need to _understand_...." he barked. "....is why the fuck I'm back at square one, exactly where the fuck I was ten years ago, lettin' people pull me into this crazy shit!" 

Dr. Nardovino sighed heavily, exasperated. Her point was completely lost on him, and he was too blinded by his need to find someone to blame rather than to take responsibility himself, so it was time for a new approach. 

She swallowed to moisten her dry throat, and gathered her confidence to deliver a bitter pill to him. "This relapse into your old ways has something to do with how much you've tried to repress over the last ten years. You were triggered by somethi-" he cut her off. 

"Yeah! My wife bangin' her fuckin' tennis coach." he hissed. 

"And that caused everything you've worked to overcome to unravel." she said, making it unclear if it was a statement or a question. 

"You're fuckin' A right it did!" he snarked. "Told ya, if it wasn't for pullin' that guys house down over it, I wouldn't be back in the game. None of this shit would have happened. I'd still been happily retired, hangin' out by my swimmin' pool all day, but she had that to go start this fuckin' chain reaction that bought Trevor back on the scene and-" she cut him off know from experience how things would escalate into another of his blame ridden rants. 

"We're not here to place responsibility for this on others, Michael." she clarified.

"Well what exactly _are_ we here to do then, Doc?" he sneered. "Why the fuck are you bringing my past into this?" his hands were moving passionately again as they so often did. "Of course I'm trying to fuckin' punish myself! I can't wrap my head around havin' money and security and everthin' fuckin' else, 'cause know I don't deserve to be happy..." he barked, stabbing the air. "....not with all the fucked up shit I've done to get it. And of fuckin' course I had to repress that feelin' and everythin' fuckin' else for ten fuckin' years to survive this Goddamn charade I created for myself!" 

Dr. Nardovino nodded knowingly; now he'd accepted the fact that she was right and acknowledged that he'd never really changed who he was, she could begin making her greater point, but first she wanted to calm him a little. Make him see the repeated cycle that his life had been caught in, hoping to make him see why he needed the change, and that the time to do so had come. 

"It's my understanding from your notes..." she began, noting how his anger seemed to instantly submit out of a narcissistic curiosity. "....That you seem to have spent a large part of your life trapped in a cycle of zero-to-hero hero-to-zero, extraordinary-to-ordinary and back around again." he screwed up his face and looked away, not liking what she was implying but he allowed her a chance to explain. "Stop me if I'm wrong at any point here, but you were a hero in high school, a big shot Quarterback who had the world at his feet, correct?"

"I guess so." he shrugged.

She could tell he was attempting to be modest, but the long held smugness that settled in his shoulders and the way he held his jaw, with the arrogant cadence in his voice gave him away. "But you messed that up, by acting out, getting injured." 

"Yeah." he said flatly, turning his darkening eyes back to her again. "People pissed me off and made me act out right from the fuckin' start." he bit, feeling all his buttons being pushed and not liking her putting the blame on him for his own mistakes. He would never admit that it was purely his fault for picking fights with other players and coaches, or how his overzealous play and excessive training in a bid to be extraordinary had caused his body to fail him. 

"And that was your first hero-to-zero moment." she announced. Michael's eyes narrowed, searching for a clue on her direction or for a reaction to throw at her but nothing was forthcoming. _She was right._ "A moment that undoubtedly caused friction with your father, and lead to punishment?"

"Of course." he confirmed, his voice showing clear signs of faltering. "He kicked me out. Told me I'd failed him, that I was worthless." 

Dr. Nardovino felt a tug at her heart again, his tone said that there was so much pain buried underneath all his bravado and outer strength. He was damaged, and still carried the scars of his youth. She understood all too well the affects that could have on a person's life. 

"So you found emotional connections elsewhere, focused on financial gain because money gave a you the sense of stability you craved." she suggested, trying to ignore the ghost of her own past that wandered through her head amongst her words for him. 

He nodded solemnly but didn't look at her; his eyes were unfocused as he felt long forgotten emotions awakening and releasing their poison into his blood stream. 

She sensed he wasn't going to take the lead again now that she'd tapped into a pocket of unaddressed issues. She needed to bring everything she'd stirred up together and explain what she hoped he would understand, and that he would see now was the time to change his life's pattern. "And you found your way into becoming a big shot bank robber. A notorious stickup man, who somehow always managed to always be one step ahead of the law, taking scores and screwing authority. " 

He looked back up at her, but he wasn't going to confirm anything vocally, however he didn't need to; his eyes did all the talking needed. "Your point?" 

"You were a hero again. _Of sorts_. Extraordinary in your talents." she marveled, but her tone offered no praise. "By committing these crimes you became different again, _special_. You enjoyed that, perhaps because it reminded you of the success you'd tasted as an athlete." again Michael didn't respond but his eyes unknowingly gave all the agreement she needed. "Then....it's my understanding that you suddenly got your future wife pregnant, and your priorities had to change. You realized that you couldn't keep running the way you were and provide for your family, so you made a choice to give up that extraordinary life for an ordinary one....which ultimately reduced you back down to zero again." he was beginning to see her point; there _was_ a pattern. "It gave you the normal life you _thought_ you'd always wanted, but it's more likely that you were in fact actually always running away from any kind of normality." 

"I dunno if that's true, Doc." he dismissed softly, but he couldn't deny she was onto something. 

"I think you do." she suggested with a gentleness that stirred him. "The idea of being normal, _average_. Scares you, we both know that. It makes you feel like a failure, and takes you back to feeling like the kid who took beatings from his dad when he wasn't deemed good enough." Michael's glanced away from her, afraid to show the sorrow and weakness that clouded his eyes. "I think you're so used to being up one minute and down the next that you don't know what to do when there's the promise of some real stability in your life, so you have to mess it up. I think that in all the years you lived here, you were afraid you'd be stuck as a zero for the rest of your life, and you were just waiting on a chance to be the hero again." her words hit home and he felt the brightness of the room around him dim as his sad eyes lost focus. "...Now those kind of chances are back in your life, you can't let it go because you're afraid of going back to being average. Forgetting what it's like to be something extraordinary." 

His gut felt tight and cold as it churned over and over with the toxic mix of emotions she'd roused within him. "I don't think you know what you're talking about." he mumbled bitterly; irritated by how the young woman before him could figure him out so much better than he'd ever been able to understand himself in his forty-eight years of life. 

"Really?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow; feeling irritated by his refusal to acknowledge the source of his problems. "Then tell me how I'm wrong?" 

He turned his head back to her and opened his mouth to speak, to yell, to scream! To tell her she was completely fucking wrong about everything! _But he couldn't._ Every word was true. 

Defeated, he waved his hand dismissively and looked away, giving up the fight before it had even begun. There was no use in trying to deny anything, she was simply saying out loud all the words that had been locked away within him for so many years.

"You came here to Los Santos, hoping that you could forget all you were and just enjoy being safe, and secure..." she explained keeping her softened tone, hoping to clarify how she'd come to the assumption and understanding about is internal workings. "....but you found that like a battle hardened soldier, you couldn't shut yourself off as easily as you'd hoped." Michael just stared at the coffee table, his eyes focused on a decorative box of tissues, as he considered how many people had been reduced to tears as they sat in the same place as him. "....We've established you had to repress every behaviour you'd ever learned in order to keep your head above water in a criminal lifestyle, in order to survive in the quiet life you thought you wanted. But like I said, I think you were just waiting for another chance to be different again." 

Something about her words made him look back to her; the contrasting mix of emotions he was feeling seemed like both fire and ice were battling inside him, but the instant he caught her gaze the war inside paused. Seeing that familiar look of understanding weighting heavy in her eyes again, the look that said she was speaking not out of judgement but directly from her own experiences. 

His eyes softened to appear almost sad, but the sight of his vulnerability it didn't make her give up her assault on him. She knew he would never come to his own conclusions; years of therapy with her predecessor had proven that he wilfully refused to acknowledge his own faults and make any concerted effort to correct them. She felt that maybe, with the connection they had, her words would somehow have an impact where his former therapists hadn't. If she could put all they'd discussed into perspective, and offer him a solution, maybe she'd help him make the change he desperately needed. 

"You said yourself last time you were here..." she continued. "...That you avoided other people, making friends, to prevent yourself acting out blowing the lid off the security you'd found in witness protection, because you weren't sure you could resist becoming what you once were again." his eyes intensified at her words, giving himself away just by how he was searching her eyes for their deeper connection, it all told her that she was on the right path. "I think that even extended to your children and your wife." she added. 

"What'd ya mean?"

"Despite having been craving a chance to act out again, you've distance yourself from them so much, to avoid being triggered by their behaviours. Perhaps to protect them, or prevent them from being to blame."

He thought on that for a moment. Looking back to the months that had recently passed; reliving how he'd reacted with the tennis coach his wife was sleeping with. How he'd lashed out at a car dealership owner over his son's mistakes. How he'd almost got himself and his daughter killed after crashing a boat party she was attending. He'd done all that by himself, out of instinct, without any direct influences from his past. 

The doctor was right, he _did_ avoid his family because he couldn't trust himself to control his inherent anger. His default reaction to things that annoyed or threatened him, and that which he valued, had always been explosive. Despite always wishing for one more chance to do something great, and relive his glory days, he'd kept away from everything that threatened his defences for years. Always knowing one wrong move could destroy everything he had gained from his deal with the devil. 

"Do you agree with that?" she asked out, hoping to illicit some response from him. She knew she was talking far too much, but she didn't know how else to make him understand his own flaws. He'd spent years going round in circles with Friedlander, never getting down to, or acknowledging, the root cause and true complexities of his issues. 

"Yeah. I do." he nodded, his eyes still unfocused. He was troubled by how well she seemed to read him. "But I don't know why I can't get control over that side of me again." 

"You can't control it now because I'm not sure you really want to, you've seen both sides of the coin and you're afraid of letting go of that part of yourself again." she claimed and he looked to her. His eyes a mixture of anger for her confronting him with what he'd known all along, and sadness for facing up to the truth. "You don't want to go back to being be a nobody again, and the only way you know how to be a _somebody_ is by pulling off these crazy crimes." she told him, her voice full of honesty and concern. 

Michael looked down at his hands, mulling over her words for a moment. She was right, he was afraid of going back to being a ghost of himself, a discarded corpse rotting besides a swimming pool. He was tired of living in his head, thinking of the wild days gone by, now the opportunities to relieve the greatest rushes of his life were back he was afraid to let go, and lose himself all over again. Even feeling productive in the movie industry hadn't helped, he still came home every night to be reminded of his mistakes and how life in the present day was so grey compared to the bold colours that once swirled around him. 

Dr. Nardovino sensed he wasn't able to find the words he needed, so she went against protocol again and spoke for him. "Instead of learning to disarm your anger, you kept it dormant, repressed, instead." she continued. "I think maybe you felt, or perhaps _hoped_ you might need to call upon it again one day, if you needed to survive, or ever felt self destructive." she told him and to her surprise he nodded softly. "Stop me if I'm wrong at any point," she insisted again, and he glanced to her briefly, silently instructing her to continue. "People who retire feel all these things you've been going through. When you came to Los Santos you had to accept that mentally you didn't need to be sharp anymore, so you'd get lost in your head during the day to quiet everything down, but you couldn't shut off the parts of you, the ones that learned never to sleep properly...the part that was always alert and prepared for a police raid...." she told, explaining why he found it so difficult to switch off and was plagued by nightmares whenever he did, and again when he looked to her eyes - something amongst the ocean blue said she was speaking directly from experience. 

"....You subdued yourself physically too" she continued. "...because you didn't need to run anymore, you weren't chasing footballs, and you weren't running from the law. All the physical challenge was gone and so you lost yourself in sedentary lifestyle; junk food, booze and cigarettes." Michael felt the urge to sigh skitter through his chest but he swallowed it. "You repressed the violent side of yourself, because you knew all it would take would be lashing out at the wrong person and everything you'd tried to achieve... _what you thought you wanted_...would unravel." he looked up and focused on her eyes, showing her that she was right but he'd fight like hell to avoid admitting it. 

Her own eyes told him in return that she had a deeper understanding of what she was saying than perhaps even he did himself. "You shut down your emotions, and stopped making connections with people, because while part of you wanted to be that guy again, you feared the mask slipping more. Knowing that something triggering your old self to come back into play could blow it all, making every mistake you made be for nothing." 

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience there, Doc?" he blurted out, feeling cornered and under the microscope by her revealing so much of himself that he'd willfully chosen to ignore. He had to try and deflect away from the mirror she was holding up to him. 

She broke his gaze, silently cursing herself for subconsciously projecting onto him. She knew that was exactly what she'd end up doing the minute she pried deeper into the workings of his head. It was wrong to allow herself to even consider projecting onto him, but she also knew the reason she was doing so was because she understood _exactly_ where he'd been for the past ten years. She knew he needed to know that someone understood how he felt, all he'd been through, but she had to lock down the desire to use her own past as an aid to his understanding. 

"It doesn't matter where I'm speaking from, Michael." she forced out, against a burning desire to confess her past to him. "We're not talking about me. We're talking about you and how you've repressed so much of yourself..." she could see in his eyes that he was going to pull hard on the thread he'd caught and she had to distract him. "You've pressed everything, even down to your sexual behaviours." she blurted out, her energy too focused on keeping down the urge to confess her own sins to stop her mouth running away with her. 

Her words threw them both off kilter for a second, but of course his ears pricked right up. She couldn't avoid noticing the change in his expression, the eager hint of lust that sparkled in his eye. She'd backed herself into a corner, and she needed to get out of it fast. 

"You undoubtedly went from getting all the girls at high school and then as the wild outlaw..." she explained, trying to appear nonchalant, but again her eyes betrayed her, a tiny hint of misplaced jealous revealing itself to him. "Then suddenly you were married, with kids and you couldn't chase skirts like you used to, so you shut that side of yourself down too. But it was the first thing to escape the chains, as it was perhaps the safest way for you to indulge your former self, without risking criminal activities, and in doing so, it only served to further prove the fact you couldn't trust yourself-" she stopped herself, knowing she was rambling again. Revealing her unease in addressing his sexual behaviours and relationships. 

A chill ran up Michael's back, disturbed by her accuracy again. "You got that right!" he muttered, eyeing her intensely. Wishing for just a moment to catch up with all the vibes he was getting from her. He was losing track of all the emotions she was unknowingly revealing to him during her analysis of him, that seemed to reveal just as much about her as it did about him. 

"I think that it also reminded you that you were just waiting for an opportunity to ruin the security you'd made for yourself." she told him, giving him a beat to react but he let her talk. He couldn't find the words to counter anything she was saying. "Everything, _all those parts of you_ , they were never dead, they were just dormant. Keeping quiet so you could go on trying to survive in the normal -effortless- life you'd made for yourself. But like most people who retire, you've found yourself bored, and drifting further from everything. Waiting for the lid to blow off things and the cycle of a lifetime to start over again." she was going way too deep and talking far too much, perhaps becoming more the patient than the therapist, but she couldn't hold back with him anymore. She needed to make him see where he'd come off the tracks in his past, even though she wasn't entirely sure how to use it to help him get back on the right path.

"Yeah." he nodded, having mulled her words over for a moment. "Waitin' around wishin' for somethin' better. Regretting every Goddamn mistake I ever made. Feelin' worthless, bitter, resentful-" 

It sounded like he could continue, but she cut in. "Of?" she asked, unsure if he was going to elaborate on _'what_ ' or more troublingly _'who'_. 

"I dunno." he shrugged. "My family I guess. I'm always thinking about the glory days, what could have been back then...the shit I missed out on 'cause I needed to protect them." 

"And how do you cope with that?" 

"Like you said - drinkin'. Losin' myself in fuckin' daydreams, or movies. Escapin'. Tryin' to ignore everything that I ever was. Rememberin' how good things used to be. The kick I used to get out of it all. Trying to be okay with just the memories....but it wasn't enough....it never was." he said lowly, his voice beginning to pair with his angry tones. "I guess I survived holdin' onto the hope that I could change it all, in time, if I wanted to. Like if I tried hard enough I'd forget who I was back then, but the whole fuckin' time I was still keepin' the hope that I could go back to it if I wanted to." he confessed. "I never let go, and somewhere along the line of waitin' and hopin', I turned into a fat, washed up, bitter, old fuck who resents his family for forcin' him away from the shit he loved, while knowin' at the same time that by savin' _them_ I saved me too!" he said, his voice raw with honesty. 

"Exactly." she nodded. 

"You know, I've tried to be grateful for that. I tried to be happy with just being alive, I wanted that to be enough and I wanted to forget all the old shit, and not be _that guy_ anymore. And I tried real hard not to be Michael Townley, I wanted to become Michael De Santa and just enjoy havin' the big house, and the wife and the kids and the security." he released almost enthusiastically. "And _I tried_ just to be happy with the fact I got out alive. I tried to get the fuck on with my life, but the grass ain't any greener on this side...in fact, the grass was fuckin' dead out here." his hands were moving again, showing how his bottled up anger threatened at an explosive release. "I got myself trapped out here because I thought I knew what I needed to do to fix my life. I always _think_ I know how to fix shit....I mean shit, my marriage is a classic fuckin' example of that! Gettin' hitched hopin' the ring would make somethin' other than lust grow between us." he grumbled bitterly. "...And I was naive enough to think that if I got out of the life, get rid of Trevor, all my problems would be fixed too. I thought I could learn to be happy being ordinary and safe, that my family would be all right, but you know...the criminal life was a fuckin' distraction from all the other shit." he hissed, his hand movements becoming more wild. "I thought my family was normal back in the mid-west, but when I look at it, they weren't! _They never were._ They were still as fucked up, it's just that I wasn't ever around long enough to realize it. I was out there tryin' to take enough scores to provide for them for another few months, comin' home after weeks on the road, seein' 'em for a month or two then going back out. I never stuck around long enough to see the pleasantries wear off." 

"Michael, this isn't just about your family." she insisted. "If you wanted to learn to accept them as they are, faults and all, you could, but you're too caught up in the past." she told. 

"You're damn right I am. 'Cause it's all I fuckin' got!" he barked angrily, jumping up to his feet. "The present is so unbelievably fucked!" he stabbed his finger down at her. "I don't even fuckin' know what I want anymore! I'm constantly chasin' things only to get 'em and hate 'em!" he growled as he began to pace the room once more. 

Dr. Nardovino sighed quietly and sank back into her chair. She'd lost control of the situation so effortlessly, but she needed to let it go and take a moment to consider his words. Wondering briefly about what they meant for her and the dynamic between them, but she shook that concern out of her head. Instead she allowed herself to enjoy relief she felt to finally hear him openly admitted to something. 

Ignoring thoughts that played in places she didn't want to go, she took another grip on her confidence and sat up straight again. Watching for a beat or two as he paced back and forth, looking around like he was searching for something to throw. 

"One of the first things you asked me today, was to explain why you keep allowing yourself to fall back into your old habits," she put out to him, hoping to bring everything she'd said together and into perspective for him, but he didn't stop moving. "....and I think it's ultimately because you don't know what you really want." to her suprise he suddenly stopped in his tracks, but it didn't silence her. "You're still haunted by your regrets, failed dreams and a cocktail of guilt. Your feelings of inadequacy from your father too. Feeling like every achievement you ever made wasn't good enough, and even if it was, you still can't enjoy it, because as a child you were indoctrinated to feel like your best was never good enough and that every achievement was met with some form of punishment or critisms." he glanced back at her for a moment but looked away with a shake of his head, as if he was trying to level out all the jumbled thoughts it contained. "So you keep striving to achieve something new, something better, and then looking for your father to shoot you down the moment you get there. And since he's not around, you find a way to do it to yourself."

Michael swallowed the hard ball of emotion that was clogging his throat. "I thought we weren't placin' blame here, Doc?" he asked as he turned back to her, feeling genuinely stuck for what else to say. Truth was, he wanted someone to blame. He always needed to feel like his actions weren't entirely his fault but she wouldn't give him the justification he needed. 

"We're not." she insisted. "Everything that I've mentioned you can learn to overcome. You have to face these issues and deal with them." she told him passionately. "You can't live your life just repressing your former self, because you've seen that bottling it all up doesn't work. You can never screw the lid on tight enough because as soon as trouble comes by, it all fizzes up and comes spilling out again-" he cut her off. 

"So what? You're saying my life here was just a cheap paint job?" he growled looking down at her. 

She didn't want to say what she really thought and deflected his question in true shrink style. "Do you think that?" 

He turned his head away, and looked inwardly for a moment, sighing through his nose. "I guess." he gave out, moving back towards the couch. "I mean I tried to train myself to just enjoy being nostalgic for the past. Watchin' the movies about the heroes, the extraordinary people, and trying to forget I ever was one." he confessed. "Drownin' memories in fuckin' whiskey to kill off the part of me that still longed for that shit. For the work I fuckin' loved! Makin' me feel so Goddamn useless." he exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion. "The only thing I was ever good at was football, and robbin' people. Dodgin' capture." he announced, his arms moving again, stirring up his simmered anger once more. "And I wasn't allowed to do that anymore, because of the choices I made. The choices I fuckin' hate!" he spat. 

Dr. Nardovino nodded, feeling somewhat vindicated. "And that's why, the first chance you got to revert to your old ways, you ran with it. You feel like you resent it because it's the right thing to do, it's what people expect of you, but deep down I don't think you do resent being pulled back into the criminal world. Because you've never truly dealt with who you really are, who you used to be, so you can't stop wanting to play on both sides of the fence." 

"So how the hell do I go back to being the numb idiot sittin' by the pool after everythin' I've done recently? And how the hell do I kill that part of me, that feels so fuckin' instinctual?" he bit, his arms moving around again to emphasis his overwhelming frustration. "How the fuck do I do nothin' and feel fulfilled?...." he urged, pacing once again. "I keep goin' back to this shit 'cause I can't switch off this part of me. I can kill it. No matter how hard I try I can't stop being a natural fuckin' criminal. And even when I _thought_ I wanted to, I still couldn't shut the part of me up that made me feel so fuckin' worthless sittin' by the pool, doin' nothin' all day. I just wanna enjoy the money I've made, run with the opportunity in the movies and get used to not havin' to worry every Goddamn minute, but I can't seem to kill that part of me that needs all that bad shit to feel alive." he cried honestly. "And I know I can't have it both ways, I can't keep doin' this shit, I put my life and my family at risk all the time. So why can't I say no, why can't I stop myself?" 

"Because you're trying to break the habit of a lifetime." she told him tenderly. "The only way to do it is to accept the journey you've been on, accept who it made you. Understand that you're not ordinary, you're not a zero, not with all the things you've done in your life, and all the good things you're yet to do." her supportive, encouraging tone sent a warmth though him that he'd never felt before. "But you have to make a choice here, Michael. If you ever want to get past this, and accept that you don't need to commit crime to be somebody, you have to choose to do that, and work at it. It doesn't come easy." she told him, a strength in her tone that told him she once more was speaking from some kind of experience. 

He didn't move or make a sound for a moment or two, thinking over everything that had been said, before letting out a sigh that dropped his shoulders. His knees that ached from so many years of running allowed his feet to move him back to the couch. "I don't know where to start." he said heavily as he sat back in his place on the sofa. 

"You have to decide what you want to do, and work for it." she insisted gently, and he cut his eyes to her hating how she always seemed to dig at him over the efforts he made to achieve things. "You have options here, but you have to ask yourself what you want?" something in his eyes said that he didn't understand what choices were on the table for him, so she took his cue and explained. 

"Do you want to actually work at doing deactivating the parts of yourself that you repressed, do you really want to learn to become a better person? Be a hero in a legitimate way by producing movies people love...." his eyes seemed to catch on those words, the suggestion of such a possibility planting a tiny seed of hope within him. "Or alternatively, do you want to keep chasing the empty, dangerous rush as a form of punishment for your happiness?" her tone of voice changed, harsher than before. "Are you ready to accept that you deserve happiness and security, or do you want to keep using the well honed skills you have until your either dead or arrested? Do you want to risk everything you suffered to gain, your family, Richards Majestic, by playing with fire?" she asked, almost scolding him. "Because you know you can't play with fire and not get burned, or you risk burning down everything you value." she insisted. "There's a choice to be made here Michael, and only you can make it." 

Michael eyed her, wondering if she was getting at something beyond his life choices and more towards the unspoken elements of their relationship. "I can't go one way or the other while I'm surrounded by people the push me into doing this kind of crazy shit!" he told, hoping to illicit a response that would clarify things between them, but his mouth started running again. "I keep lettin' people walk all over me and pull me further away from the normal shit, 'cause deep down somethin' inside is desperate for a way out of this fuckin' nightmare I made for myself here." 

"You are always in ultimate control of what you agree to Michael. Everything from helping your friend Trevor, to getting angry at your kids, or being unfaithful to your wife." that note rang loud in his head. "There are outside influences at work, but you are the master of your own destiny. You have all the control and power you need to say no, and make positive changes for yourself."

"Well, forgive me but it ain't exactly felt like that since all this shit kicked off again!" he snapped, but quickly surrendered to the moment by relaxing back into the couch, staying silent for a moment. Letting everything he'd been fed and all he'd regurgitated properly digest; searching for a way to pull himself out of the funk he'd slipped down into. "So, how do I stop myself doing this shit? _Properly_ I mean." he asked softly, nervous almost. 

She shrugged, at a loss for a way to make him change. She worried he was too old and stubborn to alter his lifelong habits. "Well, it's not a quick fix. You're going to have to decide what you really want to do, once and for all. The only way you can break this cycle is by asking yourself if you truly want to stop yourself doing these things? Or do you need to constantly do this dance with criminality and punishment for the rest of your life?"

"I don't know, Doc. I got the perfect score, but even that wasn't enough for me. I still feel useless, and empty doing nothin'. Even with the movie stuff....If I'm busy with that and feelin' like I'm gettin' somewhere, but then the guilt comes for me instead. Makin' me feel like I don't deserve the chances I've got here." he confessed. "It's like I'm some kinda fuckin' addict! Like there's always gotta be a punishment for any kinda success." he admitted, confirming the theory she'd revealed to him that he fought to deny. "And I know I don't wanna go back to being in that fuckin' bubble. Feelin' dead and cravin' somethin' to fill the Goddamn void in me, to stop me feelin' like fuckin' Average Joe." he confessed passionately. 

"Then you need to find ways that are legal and not immoral to do that." she told him. 

"Like what?" 

"Making movies!" she gave with an enthusiasm that warmed him inside again, making something odd flicker in his eyes. A look that suggested he was pinning too much hope onto her encouragement. It scared her and thinking on her feet she skilfully deflected. "Working to properly rebuild things with your family."

Michael scoffed, annoyed that she'd reminded him of _them_ again. "There ain't enough glue in the world to put my family back together." he told her adamantly. 

"You must have felt there was some hope, otherwise you wouldn't have reconciled." she suggested. 

Michael shook his head softly, looking down at the coffee table again. "Truth is, Doc...I wasn't even sure I wanted to reconcile." he confessed outright, and her eyebrows raised in surprise. "I thought we needed more time apart actually, but I was so fuckin' tired of being alone, gettin' punished for my mistakes....I just agreed to go along with it, just so I didn't have to be by myself anymore, because I was afraid if I didn't take them back when I had that chance....I'd never get another one." his admittance concerned her but he didn't give her a second to question it. "I convinced myself real quick that we could make it work...." he hesitated, his eyes sorrowful. "...I thought I was doing the right thing....and I tried to make it work. I really tried!" he insisted. "But I guess....it was just another classic fuckin' example of me thinkin' I know how to fix shit....thinkin' I know the right fuckin' choices to make, but it always goes fuckin' wrong." Dr. Nardovino was surprised by his honest declaration, and her facial expression showed it. "I guess deep down I know it's all a fuckin' charade anyway, so it's like - why should I try to be normal when my _normal_ ain't even real? It's fake as fuck." he asked with a growing darkness in his voice. "And you know? Maybe I don't wanna make a change, or make a choice one way or another because last time I did that, it blew up in my fuckin' face!" 

"What do you mean?" she frowned, a little confused by the thoughts that were spilling out of him. 

"Comin' here. Stabbing everyone I knew in the back for a clean start. This was supposed to fix everything, with me, my family, but look at where it got me." he said angrily. "My wife is still cheating on me, despite the fact we came here on the promise we'd quit doing that shit." he growled. "My kids are doing nothin' with their lives and I fucked everyone over to give them a shot at a better life than I had. They got all these opportunities and they just piss 'em away." his tone was growling increasingly more bitter and aggressive, threatening another outburst. "I mean, _shit!_ I couldn't even manage to stay fuckin' retired and Trevor still tracked my ass down even after movin' half way across the fuckin' country to get away from the crazy asshole!" So how the hell do I make a choice, when every choice I've ever made for my life has been the fuckin' wrong one?" he exclaimed, not giving her a chance to speak before running on with his angry tirade. "And you know what? Maybe...."he waved his finger at her. "... _maybe_ I like takin' scores 'cause I know the choices I make when it comes to them pay off, but every choice I've ever made for my own life, blows up in my fuckin' face!" he hissed, shifting to the edge of his seat like he was about to get up again. "So why the fuck would I want to choose to change in one way or another knowing that whenever I think I know what to do for the best, it fuckin' ends up being for the Goddamn worst!" 

Dr. Nardovino felt a pinch inside her; she related to what he was saying and could only offer him the words she would have liked to hear. "You shouldn't let past failures prevent you from trying at all." 

"But they do! How can they not?" he barked again, getting up from the couch once more. "I thought the change of comin' here would fix everythin'. Fix my family, fix _me!_ But all it's done is just fuck everythin' up worse than it was before we got here. All this shit lately has put me right back to square fuckin' one. Everythin' I ran from, all the craziness, fuckin' Trevor bringin' hell to my front door every Goddamn day! It's caught up to me anyway!" he cried, stabbing the air furiously as Dr. Nardovino braced herself for another of his epic rants to explode in her face. "I was trying so fuckin' hard to not be that person anymore, but my wife goes and fucks everythin' up and I'm back to where I was back in North Yankton. Just with less snow, more money and a shitload more problems." he roared, gesturing rapidly, making Dr. Nardovino dizzy. "It was my choice to come here, and that choice was a fuckin' mistake. And shit, I thought after we took the last score and fixed all our problems that everythin' would be fine too....and it looked like it was gonna be fine for a while, like it always does, and then _still_ everything gets fucked up all over ag-" Michael's rage was cut off by a soft knocking at the door, which instantly shattered the intensity and sense of security he had felt locked away in the room with her. 

Dr. Nardovino's eyes instantly went to the clock, to find she had run into her time with her scheduled patient. She cursed herself, hating that the one time she had to go bust open a can of worms with him, was the day their time was unofficial and limited. 

"Excuse me." she said politely, and got up. 

Michael released a heavy sigh and ran his hands over his face, giving himself a moment to allow his provoked anger to recede back inside him, and allowing his mind to take a longed for distraction. 

His steely blue eyes fixated on her ass as she exchanged a few words with an unseen figure through a small gap in the door. His mind wanted to run through everything that had been said and revealed during the session, but his head felt heavy with gloomy emotions, and it caused his eyes to tempt his thoughts away from the darkness and pain inside. Inviting him to drift away into the sensual visions of her again. The fantasies that always seemed to help him heal and detach when he needed it the most. Thoughts that made him stop having to think too hard about himself and allowed the escape from reality which he had constantly craved. 

"I'm really sorry Michael, but we have to end it here." her voice pulled him out of the happy, therapeutic place he'd floated off to and back into the cold reality of having to leave her. "I have another patient waiting outside." 

Being snapped back to the real world filled him with an uncomfortable sensation, one similar to the way it felt when he'd been floating weightlessly in a swimming pool, only to step out and feel the heaviness of his body again. Every problem he had felt so much bigger, every joint in his body ached and his head throbbed with the pressures of so many stirred up emotions. 

He hated leaving her office feeling that way; being left unfulfilled, burdened and angst ridden would only serve to cause problems for him out in the world, but he only had himself to blame for that. 

He had descended on her without wanting again, and had allowed himself to be vulnerable enough for her to dig into him so deeply. Unknowingly giving her free reign to open up so many old wounds and putting far too much to think about inside his head while offering none of the forgiveness he'd initially craved in coming to her. 

"A'right." he said, his voice low, almost dejected as he moved over to her. "I shouldn't have come to you outta the blue like this. I'm makin' it a habit." he didn't make eye contact as he smoothed out his dark suit jacket, still oblivious to the blood that had dried into the sleeve. 

"It's okay." she insisted. "I'm glad you feel like you can come to me." her warmth was undeniable and almost intoxicating. "Sorry we had to end this way, but please think about what I said. We can talk about this more on Thursday." she begged of him, as he moved over to her. "I just want you to ask yourself if you really want to change, and what you want out of life, and ask yourself if-" he was suddenly standing in front of her, merely inches away from her. The scent of his faded cologne and a musky hint of sweat and cordite taking over her senses. 

"And what if I don't wanna change?" he said, his voice gravelly as he looked deep into her eyes. Recalling how he felt the last time they'd stood together at the door, contrasting how much better he felt then with how uneasy he felt in that moment; so troubled and tense with so many exposed and raw emotions covering him. "Will that mean no more therapy?" 

She softly swallowed the lump of lust in her throat and considered how whichever way she could answer, would spell doom. If she told him yes, she knew he'd just continue down the path he was on, in a bid to keep the shoulder he needed to cry on. If she said no, it would pardon him of the need to make a decision. The heat that swelled through her made it difficult to find the best solution, but she had to be strong, and diplomatic, to push through the unwelcome affects he had on her. 

"I'll be here for you as long as you feel you need me to be." she gave through a tight jaw. 

The warmth and comfort her words gave him stirred him inside and played into his eagerness to ignore the questions she'd put on him, and instead he focused his eyes on her mouth. The full red lips he wanted to taste. The smooth, lightly tanned skin of her jaw and neck that cried out to be scratched by the stubble around his. His hands itched to run up under her skirt and over her thighs. Her whole body was crying out to him, asking him to take her. To wrap her up in his arms and truly lose himself inside her. Find a little of the healing and clarity he craved from the physical touch of a woman who seemed like she could offer him so much. 

"That's good to know." he purred, inching towards her, unsure of his own actions and guided only by his most basic urges, as she fought the heat in her body from rising to her cheeks. 

The uneasiness she'd felt at the start of the session came rushing back in, threatening to knock down her defences like a sand castle against the tide. She felt exposed again, vulnerable with so much skin exposed and trapped up against his charms. However, she knew exactly what he was doing and it helped her hold strong. She'd caused him to self-analyse too deeply, opening up old but barely healed wounds. By doing so she'd forced him to seek a distraction and asserted some odd sense of dominance over him and he needed to try and pull things back in his favour, they best way he knew how. Make her a little uncomfortable and find a way to distract from his pain with something that caused him pleasure. 

She instinctively stepped back, preventing him from making another mistake to later punish himself for. "I'll see you on Thursday." she told as she widened the gap between them, needing to breathe and get rid of him before things escalated to a level that she could no longer control. 

Michael smirked at her, pleased that even after such an intense and spontaneous session with her, he'd still managed to shift the balance and get under her skin again. 

Seeing her reaction was the perfect temporary remedy to soothe the sore emotions she'd stirred up within him. With a little luck he'd make it home before his frustrations spiked again and triggered the aggressive response to emotional pain that threatened within him. 

"Yeah, see you then." he agreed, letting his eyes run up and down her full length once more, before reaching out for the door handle and disappearing. 

Alone, Dr. Nardovino sighed heavily. She knew it was wrong to be confrontational with him, to push her theories onto him the way she did, but with each session they had was becoming more and more obvious that traditional therapy methods were never going to work with him. He'd had ample time to talk out his own conclusions about his condition, to answer his own questions, but he was getting nowhere lost in his own head. Ignoring his problems rather than meeting them head on. Burying his head and hoping to survive against everything that tried to unpick him. The only way she felt she could help was by confronting him with what he already knew deep down. 

Despite the games he played with her, he did seem to value her opinion and she hoped that somehow she'd get through to him on that merit. She wanted to help him break the cycle he was trapped in, but something deeper told her that her tapping into his head and confronting him the way she had was dangerous. The things she'd unwittingly revealed to him about herself, her level of understanding and the dynamic between them held every ingredient needed in a recipe for disaster and she feared she'd just turned on the stove. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, if you made it this far, thank you! I promise the next few chapters are going to be less heavy, and maybe even a little fun, as this session is a catalyst for a shift in Michael and Cassidy's relationship. As always, I'd love to know what you thought and if you're ready for more. Thanks for reading!


	15. On The Rocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been slacking with the updates and I apologize, because you guys have been so awesome with showing me so much love with your comments and kudos. As always - huge thanks to you all! 
> 
> I'm putting out a **double chapter** update today, as these are kind of shorter "teaser chapters", but I hope you still enjoy them, and rest assured that Michael and Cassidy's relationship is about to start evolving! ;o) Enjoy!

As soon as Michael stepped through the double glass doors on the ground floor of his therapists building, the weight of a dozen emotions clambered up onto his back. He had run to her as a place to hide from his problems, but talking with her during their impromptu session had unravelled him in ways he'd not been prepared for. 

The cool late morning air should have soothed the rawness inside him, but instead it seemed to only wildly swirl the familiar red mist that was starting to cloud over his eyes. His jaw tensed as he navigated his way through the small clusters of suits hovering around the building's Coffee Bean outlet and he jogged down the steps in the direction of the car park. As he walked away, he thought of where to place the blame for the heaviness in his head. The good doctor had torn him open and let him bleed out on her office floor, and he should have been furious about it. He _wanted_ to be furious about it, to be mad at her for making him light up so many of the shadows that lived within him, but for some reason he couldn't direct the blame towards her. Deep down he knew she was trying to help by making him look inwardly and see the building blocks of himself and understand what parts really needed repair. 

He found his dark blue Tailgater and got in, shutting out the noises of the city and taking a moment to breathe. He considered smoking a calming cigarette before launching himself into Los Santos traffic, but his hands had already turned the key in the ignition and the car was in gear waiting to flee the scene. 

With a sigh sitting in his chest, he cast his eyes out of the tinted windows and looked up to the light brown skyscraper and thought about what _she_ was doing in that moment. He knew she was probably lost in someone elses problems already, but he couldn't stop himself wondering what she was doing with the information he'd given her. What was she writing in her notes about his past and present? What was she feeling for him now that he'd revealed so much of himself to her? Was she treating him just like any other client, filing him away somewhere until their next official session rolled around? Or was the unspoken connection they had filling her up with a variation of the mixed up feelings that saturated him? 

He didn't know how she managed to get him to spill his guts the way she did, or how she managed to twist things back around on him to make him see the problems he worked so hard to purposefully ignore. 

As the engine idled he ran through the session in his head, trying to place the moment at which she turned the whole thing on its head. He'd gone to her in search of some kind of comfort, or reassurance after such a stressful event, but somehow she'd hijacked everything and made him focus on analysing himself and his own motivations. 

He wanted to be pissed at her for it, he _really_ did. He wanted to run back up to her office and chew her out for unravelling him at the worst possible time, but as their session had proved, his anger for what he felt was rooted in places far away from her office. 

With a storm raging inside his head, Michael set off for home. Navigating through the city and the swarms of drivers that pushed at his buttons, while his mood cycled through dozens of conflicting emotions. Remorse over what he'd done in the hours before his therapy session; anguish for allowing himself to give in and indulge his thirst for extraordinary actions and the adrenaline rush that came with them. Pain for the memories of his childhood and aggravation against all his failures, past and present. He could feel resentment for the people who changed his life, bitterness for himself in how he'd allowing them to do so. Irritation over the struggles that came along with all the challenges and struggles he'd faced riddled him. Frustration sat heavy on his shoulders with thoughts of how the world always seemed to flip him on his ass whenever he relaxed enough to enjoy the easy life he'd paid for in so much blood and corruption. 

And of course, mixed amongst all the negatives was the ever present lust for his therapist and all the things he wanted to do to her. Making his hands grip tightly to the steering wheel as he held back the wild mixture of anger and desire. 

He was beginning to consider the possibility that she only stood to make him more crazy than he already was. This woman who effortlessly crawled inside his head and kicked over so many of the rocks that he'd tried to keep glued to the floor. 

Since their first session weeks earlier he'd learned that just talking about his problems had a impressive way of defusing the trouble that brewed inside him. Her outlook so often had given him the clarity he needed to control himself, but in the hour they'd spent together that morning he felt like he'd reached the point of a core meltdown. 

Where sessions with her had once helped him find a way to strengthen himself it now felt like no good had come of their time spent together. All the negativity he'd hoped to shed at her feet was still hanging on him, and it only seemed to feel even heavier than before, now buried under piles of other emotions that she'd had him dig up. Talking had opened up so many old wounds that were left weeping and sore, causing an infection of aggression and bitterness to spread within him. 

He hated how much she made him focus so much on his issues and gave him a hundred things to consider about at once. Confusing him and making him question himself, all he was, and everything around him. Unravelling all the issues he'd thought he'd dealt with and compartmentalized years earlier. It was almost too much to handle on top of everything going on in his life, with all the mistakes he kept making and problems he kept causing for himself. 

Suddenly the noise of the radio was too much, and he shut it off angrily. Driving in silence with just his heavy thoughts and the struggle to restrain the darkest sides of himself. He knew well enough from past experience, that the only thing to settle the devil within was his old friend whiskey - and lots of it! 

Immediately upon pulling into his driveway, he felt his mood sour even further. The place seemed to represent so much of what he hated about his present situation, the very walls seemed to be painted with the shadows he tried to outrun. The move to Los Santos was supposed to be the answer to all his problems but instead, like so much in his life, a solution and opportunity had only morphed into another problem. Bringing so many difficulties and dramas and yet more failures to his life. 

All things that were said during his session had stirred up so much of the resentment he'd tried to ignore for years; the emotions he'd been trying so hard to control in order to remain civil with everyone under his roof. He knew it was dangerous to go inside, to risk being around the people he cared for, knowing he might lash out - say things he didn't truly mean, just like he always did. Let the mask slip and reveal all the bitter thoughts that had sat patiently inside his head for countless weeks. 

He'd have been safer getting in his car and driving away, going to a bar or for a walk, getting his head clear and his emotions in order before taking a storm into his home, but the new bottle of single malt in the kitchen cupboard was calling out to him far too loudly to ignore. He needed to find the switch to shut off his head before he imploded. 

With a frustrated sigh, he stormed through the stained glass front door and made a beeline straight into the kitchen. Wasting no time, he hurried to the cupboard and took out the bottle of liquor and a found a glass in the drainer, although he didn't feel like bothering with one. Truth was, he could have happily downed the whole contents straight from the bottle. 

His could feel that his temper was on a hairpin trigger and everything he'd been bottling up in recent weeks was threatening to finally erupt. The only thing to take him off the ledge was the sweet escape alcohol delivered. 

He moved to the kitchen counter, putting the bottle down and going to the fridge to fill his glass with ice. Saying a silent prayer that the rich malt liquor would help solve the static-like feeling in his head and defuse the explosive emotions that were heating up and taking him over and turning him back into the man he didn't like to become. 

At the kitchen island, he quickly filled up the glass, and didn't hesitate in throwing the amber liquid down his throat. Enjoying the way the outward coolness soothed his dry mouth for a moment before the comforting burn began in his throat; temporarily dampening the lit fuse that sizzled through him. 

"Really, Michael?" Amanda's voice cut through his thoughts, and instinctively he looked up and across the room to see that his wife had just walked in from the backyard, clearly having been practicing yoga again from the way she was dressed. "You didn't come home last night, and now this? It's not even noon!" 

Michael didn't respond; at that moment he wasn't feeling the energy for another fight as the whiskey had momentarily suspended his temper, but in an automatic move of defiance he poured another two fingers of booze over the ice and threw it down his throat to chase the first, feeling the critical eyes of his seething wife burning into him. 

Her disapproval for his every move was palpable; pushing his buttons with silent judgements. He knew she'd been itching to berate him for every little thing he'd done since she moved back in. Their recent fights had been somewhat tentative, but he knew just how much was going on under the surface. How much venom was just waiting for a chance to spurt out into each other's eyes, and something about her posture told him she was spoiling for a fight - _they both were._

"What the hell is that?" she cried, moving closer and tugging at the sleeve of his suit jacket. "Is this blood?" she gasped. 

Michael yanked his arm away but ignored the comment, slamming his glass down on the marble counter hard enough to rattle the rocks inside as he tried to savour the soothing burn of whiskey in his mouth. Amanda stood at his side, hands on her hips as she glared angrily, as he tried to before he formulate a coherent thought. He needed to be civil, to not rock the boat any further, but her eyes were goading him and encouraging forward all the issues he'd tried to keep locked away. 

The vibrations his wife was sending through him turned his mind away from the troubles of his more recent actions, making him focus back on the feelings and thoughts he'd had during his last scheduled therapy session. 

Talking with Dr. Nardovino about his marriage and home life had helped him find a little control over his emotions and had somehow prevented him from releasing his issues within the walls of his home, but in that moment he had no time for control, or civilities. It was time to speak out and release some of the pressure inside him. 

"Tell me something, Amanda..." he began, his tone not revealing the darkness in his curiosity as he began to pour another glass of whiskey. "Why'd you move back in here with me? _Really?_ "

His wife stepped back from him, and thought for a moment, as if uncertain. "I thought you wanted to try and make this work."

Michael rolled his eyes away, concentrating on screwing the lid back on the bottle. Pressing his hands onto the cold marble counter and leaning in, taking a moment to stare at the full glass, and ponder his reasons for engaging with her the way he was. 

He had pushed all the things he'd experienced and dwelled on over the past few weeks down deep, but all the marital issues were rapidly surfacing, pushing him to act out. However, he couldn't resist considering that maybe his therapist was right after all. Maybe his behaviour was all some half-assed way of seeking out a punishment for his sins, it certainly made sense but that didn't prevent the hatefulness escaping his lips. 

"Right, so you're just gonna turn this around and make it about me again, huh?" he replied impulsively, not caring how confrontational he was being. 

"Oh I should have known you'd come in here looking for a fight. You're always the same when you've been around Trevor." she hissed, having little doubt her husband's current state was due to his old friend. 

"This ain't got nothin' to do with fuckin' Trevor." he growled. "This is to do with the fact that I ain't in my happy little bubble anymore and that I wanna know why you'd come back to me, knowin' I hadn't changed at all....that I'd actually got fuckin' worse?" 

Amanda watched on angrily as he swirled the liquor and ice around in his glass, taking a moment to choose her words carefully before speaking, unlike he husband. "I moved back in because I thought we were going to try to save our family. I _thought_ you'd turned over a new leaf, but clearly I was wrong." she hissed, throwing up her hands. "Look at you! Out all night, doing God only knows what. Coming home angry and bitter and covered in blood. You promised me things would be different, but the only thing that's missing here, from the mid-west, is the snow!" 

Michael laughed, empty against his vicious glare. "You're fuckin' A right! My thoughts exactly!" he gestured his glass to her as if he was toasting her. 

"I wanted to try and salvage something from this mess but you-" she continued but he jumped in, cutting her off. 

"Oh bullshit!" he barked, throwing the next dose of liquor down his throat, barely swallowing it before continuing. "If that was true, you'da made an effort to keep up the pleasantries for longer than a fuckin' month!" he'd grown so tired of always taking the blame for everything, the responsibility needed to be shared and there was no better time to do it.

"How can I keep a smile on my face when I have to look at you every morning?"

He gave a hollow chuckle and shook his head softly. "Yeah. I ask myself the same question!" 

Amanda scowled at him, searching for the right ammunition to fire back at him, but she didn't get a chance before he started the next wave of his attack. "See, _I think_ you came back here because you realized the grass ain't no greener on the other side." he told, slamming his glass down and glancing over her face for a reaction. "That fuckin' phony yogi probably lived in a tent in the woods and you missed your big ole mansion in Rockford Hills. You didn't come back here to save our marriage...it's evident that you don't give a fuck about that." he told pointing an index finger at her. "You came back here because you knew I'd fuckin' regressed and was finally back in the game and you thought I had a bit more money comin' in that you could go fuckin' blow!" 

A flash of recollection sparked in Amanda's eyes, telling Michael he wasn't far wrong. "And would that be so bad?" she snapped. "Money is the only thing you've got going for you, you miserable piece of shit!" 

"Well why don't you leave me then? _Huh?_ You did it once already and you clearly got no problem findin' a new mark. I mean shit, you found two new guys to fuck within weeks of each other. I'm sure if you put on your shortest skirt and hit the Vinewood Boulevard, it'd take you all of ten minutes to find another sucker!"

"You're a pig!" she spat, her palm itching to slap him. 

"Or maybe!" he sang out sardonically, ignoring her insult. "You could find a guy on the internet." 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Amanda snapped, revealingly. 

Michael didn't know why everything was coming out at that moment, considering how many weeks he'd kept his mouth shut about what he knew, but all the chaos and emotional turmoil of the past several hours had weakened his resolve to keep his lips buttoned together. Somewhere deep inside, just as his therapist had warned, he was desperately craving some kind of punishment, and the best way to get that was to start a fight. To put what mattered to him at risk and let the words and threats sting his skin. Lose himself in the reinvigorated resentment for himself, his actions and every aspect of his home life. 

"Oh don't play fuckin' innocent with me." he warned. "I know you were on that hook-up site, lookin' for a new dick to ride." 

"And how the fuck would you know unless _you_ were on there looking for women?" she shot back. 

Michael laughed smugly. "I have friends you know. People who keep an eye out for my interests."

"Who? Fuckin' Trevor?" she hissed. "That'd be just like him, wouldn't it. Tipping you off about shit to cause more problems. Trying to ruin my life all over again!" 

"But Trevor didn't sign up to the site though, did he? He didn't use my fuckin' money for membership either!" Michael barked. "He didn't go fuck his tennis coach and cause me to fall back into this bullshit we tried to escape." 

Amanda's eyes flared with rage but skilfully she controlled it. Choosing a cutting remark rather than an outright attack. "It's really no wonder our children have such messed up relationships when they have _you_ for a role model." 

"Oh fuck you!" he cheered snidely, angered by her avoidance to take responsibility. "Don't act like you give a shit about the kids. If you had any concern for their mental state you wouldn't have been fuckin' some other dick in my bed, across the hall from where our kids sleep. In _our_ bed!" he barked. " bed that I can count the amount of times _we've_ actually had sex in!" he roared. "You don't get to take the fuckin' moral high ground with me no more."

"Jesus Christ!" Amanda hissed. "I would kill to be able to leave your worthless ass."

"And what's stoppin' ya?" Michael growled darkly, not fully comprehending why he was trying to push her away. "You used my money to fuck practically every guy who ever set foot on my property, so why not use it to fund a fuckin' divorce!" 

"Oh yeah! Right! Because you'd let me walk away wouldn't you? After you threatened to kill me in front of the children, you'd let me walk with everything I know?" 

"Ah, you dunno shit!" he dismissed adamantly, with a wave of his hand. "I never told you nothin' 'cause I knew what a two-faced bitch you were right from the get-go!" her mouth fell open, as if shocked by his claims more than his insults. "You're not married to that guy anymore, Amanda. 'Cause Michael Townley is six deep up in North Yankton. Now your husband is just some rich douchebag who dropped lucky on the stock market ten years ago." 

"Oh really?" she cut in. "I'm sure the FIB would have something different to say about that."

"Would they?" Michael said darkly, his eyes glinting with wickedness. "Data loss is such a common thing these days, you know? Computer's ain't as trustworthy as you might think." 

Amanda searched his face, as if looking for the clue she needed to put his words together with a vague news headline that had sat at the back of her mind for weeks. "Oh my God! Did you have something to do with that trouble at the FIB building?" she exclaimed but he didn't flinch. "I knew those men storming our house had something to do with that! I bet you were in on that job at the Union Depository too, weren't you? I thought that footage they released looked like you, but I stupidly chose to igno-"."

"Yeah, for your own benefit no doubt." he cut in. "There's nothin' you'd love more than all the money that came from the biggest score in American history!" Michael smirked cruely, unscrewing the booze bottle again and pouring himself another glass. Confident to the point of cockiness in the assurance that his wife had no solid proof to tie him to any of crimes he'd committed over the years. "But I wouldn't know anythin' about all that, _I'm retired_." he returned smugly; his eyes clearly confirming what Amanda was starting to realize to be true. 

"You fucking asshole!" she snarled. "Jesus Christ! Just when I thought you couldn't get any worse!"

He gave a spiteful chuckle and knocked back the whiskey, before slamming it down on the counter once more. "I'm full of surprises baby!" he cheered and made a move to leave. 

"Where the hell are you going now?" 

"Oh I dunno. I'm bored." he said throwing out his arms, doing a half turn. "Maybe I'll go knock over a liquor store or somethin'." with that he turned and headed for the stairs. "You know, since it's just like the mid-west here and I got a clean slate to dirty up."

"You're fucking deranged!" 

He stopped in his tracks, turning to look back at her from the hallway just outside the kitchen area. "Yeah. _I am_ , but at least I can admit that to myself. A good exercise in self-improvement for you would be for you to take some fuckin' responsibility for this mess our lives are in!" he barked. 

"Oh! _OH!_ " she yapped, storming over to him. "Is that you're new shrink talking is it? You think you got someone on your side now so you can come in here and talk shit to me."

Michael laughed, deep and vindictively. "I don't need a shrink to tell me what's wrong here. Listen to yourself every once in a while, would ya? It's always _my_ fuckin' fault. Everythin' is because I'm such a horrible person." he threw at her dramatically, his arms waving around wildly as they so often did. "Well you ain't no fuckin' angel, sweetheart. It was you fuckin' your tennis coach that started all this shit. We came out here for a new start, but it ended up being exactly the same as always. You had me make all these fuckin' promises to you, about being faithful and trying harder, but did you ever promise me the same? Did you ever say _you'd_ try to change?" he growled, stabbing his finger at her and not giving her a second to respond. "No! _You fuckin' didn't._ But you should have, 'cause you're just as responsible as I am for the shitty state of our marriage, of our fuckin' _lives_ , as I am, and you know it." he barked 

Amanda held on that thought for a moment. "Even if I was..." she started but he cut her off. 

"Woah! Hold up! Was that you _almost_ attemptin' to take some fuckin' responsibility? Well fuck me! I never thought I'd see the day. This has gotta be a sign of an oncomin' apocalypse, surely! What a once in a lifetime fuckin' event!" he blustered, flamboyant in his bitter sarcasm. 

"Fuck you, Michael!" she spat. 

"Maybe if you fucked more than my bank balance every once in a while, we wouldn't be standin' here now." he roared and with that he stormed off up the stairs for the bedroom. Leaving Amanda standing here, mouth half open, trying to digest all he'd just rammed down her throat. 

Upstairs, he changed quickly avoiding burning to a crisp in the fire of his own rage. He pulled on a pair of sporty grey beach shorts and a t-shirt, hoping shedding his blood splattered suit would do something to free him from the heaviness on his shoulders. All around him he could already feel the walls of the house closing in on him and he knew the only solution was to escape, in any and every way available to him.

He needed to breathe, and instantly the idea of going down to the ocean came to his mind. Hoping that a breath of fresh sea air would help clear his head. He'd been meaning to buy another boat, to see if the old formula for escapism worked, but he hadn't had much chance to spend his own money, while his wife was so busy doing it for him instead. 

With a plan of action in mind, he jogged back down the stairs on route back towards the outside world and as he reached the foyer, he saw Amanda standing in the archway to the living room. Arms folded across her ample chest, glaring at him disapprovingly as he walked out without another word to her. Desperate to get a safe distance away before he threw something more than bitter words at her. 

Stepping out into the midday sun seemed to only highlight the fuzz in his head, and he slipped on a pair of aviators to provide some relief, and quickly jumped back into his car. Turning on the radio again, for some distraction from the noise in his head, before gunning the car west for the open water.  


He knew the pier would be quiet that time of day. Only a scattering of tourists and locals with nothing better to do. Some space and sea air would blow the cobwebs away, let him process everything that had been piling up inside him, allow a dream or two of better days. He needed to get some clarity on the past few hours, _no - weeks_ , years even! Something had to help him put everything he'd woken up back to bed so he could carry on keeping his head above water and avoiding the ultimate destruction he constantly toyed with

Watching the ocean always had a magical way of calming him, but there was far more than just the water pulling him out west. He didn't know it but subconsciously, once again, but he'd been drawn out in the direction of the shore for more than just the calmness of the waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget, there's another chapter waiting! :o)


	16. Decompression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a ***double update*** \- if you missed chapter fifteen, please go back, I don't want you to miss anything! :o)

Chapter Sixteen || Decompression. 

After Michael's impromptu visit to her office, Cassidy had only two more clients to see and she tried her very best to concentrate on them and their issues, but her mind kept straying to Michael. Troubled by how she'd behaved and worried that she'd pushed him too hard and derailed his quest for self improvement. She hadn't meant to say the things she said, and she hadn't meant to say them in the way she did either, but her own frustrations and vunerabilities made it difficult to stop herself.

The very moment her work was done for the day, she packed up her things and headed straight for home. Hoping she'd find a way to clear her head and settle the rattled feeling that had started to make camp inside her in the wake of Michael's appearance. 

As she made the long drive through the city to her beachside home she kept the radio in her car cranked up, doing all she could to distract her mind and stop herself thinking about Michael and all the mistakes she kept making with him. She knew she'd screwed up and that she needed to analyse her errors but she was feeling too confused and troubled to want to force her mind into re-hashing their time together, feeling a pit in her stomach every time she thought back to the look on his face and the pain and anguish glazing his eyes. 

On top of everything she was afraid to dare imagine exactly what he'd done before showing up at her office out-of-the-blue, catching her out again. Making her stumble into writing him a cheque for a large chunk of painful reality. She really hadn't meant to be so harsh with him, but she wanted him to acknowledge his behaviours and their causes. It felt like he didn't really want to help himself, but she felt compelled to try and make him understand himself, in the hopes of pulling him back from the criminal abyss he was spiralling into. 

She was far too stubborn to admit that she was in way too deep with him, but the fact was becoming increasingly harder to ignore with every moment they spent together. She was finding it harder to resist the need to make him wake up and pay attention, feeling compelled to pull him out of his sleepwalking state. Shake him up and make him do something to stop putting himself risk, on so many levels. 

The only way she was going to cope with the troubling feelings inside was to force herself into forgetting him for a while. She had to give herself some time to regenerate some degree of strength and clarity in order for her to learn from her mistakes and find a way to repair the damage she'd potentially done, but as she pulled onto the Great Ocean Highway, Weasel News cut through her musical distraction and pulled her thoughts back to him with the latest news headlines. 

_'Drama at the port of Los Santos with thirteen dead in early morning shootout.'_ the announcers voice called out into the car, turning Cassidy's blood cold. She didn't need a second to connect the dots. 

"Jesus Christ, Michael!" she sighed to herself. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the details, but her hand was suddenly reaching for the dial to turn up the volume a little more to find out what had happened. It was hard to tell if it was morbid curiosity, or concern for Michael's safety that made her interested, but she couldn't stop herself listening eagerly through the other headlines, waiting for them to reveal just what he'd done. 

_'Thirteen people were killed in the early hours of this morning, during a shootout at the dry docks in the Port of Los Santos. This incident comes only months after a freighter was destroyed in port by suspected terrorists. Police believe the incident to be connected to a botched illegal arms trade off but currently have no further leads. They are appealing to the public for information.'_

"Fuck!" Cassidy muttered to herself. She knew Michael to be a thief, not an arms dealer. Maybe this wasn't his crime after all? Or perhaps he wasn't involved directly? _Who was she kidding?_ Of course he was involved! There was money to be made and danger to be tangled up in, and the pieces fit too well. A vision of the possible scene ran through her mind and it chilled her. She knew well enough from the time she'd spent with him merely two hours earlier that didn't seem proud of his misdeeds but knowing just what he'd done filled her with the strangest feelings that she couldn't pin names to. 

Troubled by what she'd heard, and what she was experiencing internally, she turned the radio off. Her head was too frantic with its own noise to want to hear music in that moment. Instead she focused through the haze of her thoughts, and put her foot to the floor and speeding the rest of the way down the highway to her street, desperate to find a proper distraction from Michael De Santa and his criminality. 

Thankfully, the day was far too nice to waste stuck in an office or dwelling on her internal confusion and as soon as Cassidy pulled up on her driveway, all she could imagine herself doing was taking off her formal work clothes, hitting the beach. 

Refusing to take her professional troubles inside her house again, she pushed through the door, dropped her bag besides it and instantly kicked off her heels. Setting to work shedding her blouse and skirt as she walked through the living area to the kitchen, ending up in her underwear by the time she stepped onto the cold linoleum floor. 

One of the things she liked most about living alone, in such a private house was the freedom to wander around dressed however she pleased. She wasn't one to strut about naked frequently, but it was liberating to have the option and the ritual of shedding her professional skin in such a way always helped her disconnect from her responsibilities and concerns. 

She knew it was still horribly early, but she really needed a drink, and before she could chastise herself for daytime drinking, she pulled out a beer and cracked it open. Taking a long drink from the as she wandered back across the room, to the patio doors that lead out onto a large balcony which looked straight out onto the ocean. 

Needing to breathe, she unlocked the doors and slid them open, stepping out and inhaling the soothing sea air as deeply as she could. The sound of the waves gentle lapping the shore and splashing against the cluster of rocks nearby relaxed her; the sight of the sparkling blue waters instantly made her want to dive in and wash her all of her worries away. 

As some kind of unconventional therapy for herself, she religiously took a swim every morning and evening, and sometimes in the middle of the day too, if she had the time. Ocean swimming and running along the beach seemed to do a lot for her health, both mentally and physically. Keeping her in shape while giving her mind a way of recharging. It sure beat having to make small talk three times a week with the people at her fitness classes in the city. 

She finished her beer quickly, and gathered up the clothes she'd shed before heading upstairs to change properly. Jogging up the staircase, passing a glass door to her right that lead out to an outdoor staircase, before stepping onto the landing area lit brightly by a curved glass roof that ran the length of the corridor and allowed a rich amount of sunlight in. 

She hurried along to her bedroom door and headed inside to the large bright space, with its own balcony and sea view. A line of mirrored closets lined the furthest side of the room, as magnolia walls formed the rest. Her bed was covered in crisp white linen, but bright pops of colour were dashed around in the form of bright blue and purple pillows. She'd put a stamp of her own on the seemingly blank canvas, by adding further splashes of colour with more framed posters, personal trinkets and eclectic pieces that she'd taken a liking to. 

As she busied herself preparing for the beach, Michael's name and face kept popping up in her mind like some kind of annoying internet advertisment, but she continually pushed the thoughts of him away. She'd spent too much time worrying about him since they'd met, for far too many different reasons, she needed to stop herself. For her own sanity, if nothing else. 

She told herself resolutely to forget him for a while, maybe even a couple of days until the night before his next appointment came around. If she was ever going to be an effected therapist for him she had to distance herself from him in both mind and body. 

With that decided she set about slipping into her favourite purple bikini and pulled on some denim cut offs. Her wide brimmed sun-hat was already waiting downstairs with her beach bag, ready to go. Along with her sunglasses and the book she'd been reading on and off in the nights she could concentrate on something other than thoughts of _him_. 

She made a point to tie her hair up in a low ponytail before grabbing some small bills from her wallet, vowing to make a detour up passed Mom's Pies to grab a sandwich for lunch and few cold drinks to keep her going, before hitting the shore. She couldn't wait to lay her towel out on the soft, warm sand and carve out a piece of paradise for herself on the patch of beach that doubled as her backyard. 

She knew well enough that she was just painting over the cracks herself by avoiding think of him. She needed to take the time to understand her and her behaviour around him, knowing it was important for her to learn from and use to better herself, but she was too tied up in knots herself to put anything into perspective yet. She couldn't even begin to understand herself when she couldn't untangle the mess of feelings that weighed heavy in her stomach. 

An afternoon on the beach, with her mind switched off and the sun beating down on her would be the perfect remedy for forgetting him, and gaining some perspective on the confusing web of emotions she was trying so hard to deny. Some distance would bring with it clarity, that would also soothe the tension of regret in her stomach.

However, unbeknownst to her, that afternoon the distance between them was becoming increasingly smaller. Only two miles of sand stretched out from where she relaxed to where he was; two miles that were rapidly disappearing under his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I hope you all enjoyed both of these chapters. As always, I'd love to know what you guys think and if you're as excited as I am about what's to come! :o) Thanks for reading!


	17. Casually Dressed and Deep In Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, firstly I'm really sorry for taking so long with getting this chapter put up. It's a super long one, so it's taken some time to perfect. While there's not a huge amount of drama in it, but a lot happens and things are said that will play into future chapters. 
> 
> As always, massive thanks to everyone who took the time to leave me such lovely comments on the last update and your kudos is appreciated hugely too. Hope you enjoy this new installment. Big hugs to you all!

__

"And every moment I have to endure,  
I look for a reason, to be where you are.  
I'm out of my head,  
Suddenly I realize,  
You are where I belong."

**\-- Falling For You by Skin**  


A few hours passed as the afternoon sun slowly moved across the sky. Its rays gentling tanning Cassidy's bare skin as she lay on her back, large floppy sun hat over her face and music pumping into her ears from little white headphones. The upbeat rock music was doing a perfect job of blocking out all reality and had helped allow her mind to forget all of its concerns, letting her lose herself by only focusing on directing her own little movie-like music videos in her head. 

Over the years she'd learn to become a near expert at escapism. Finding ways that helped her shut off her mind from conscious thought with any distraction she could find, entering into a survival mode of sorts. She knew it was a terrible coping strategy to have, her college professors would have had plenty to say about it all, but it was the only technique that ever come close to helping prevent the all darkness at her back from rushing in sucking her up. 

Thanks to the way her troubled, but well conditioned mind, submitted to a music diversion she'd barely given Michael De Santa a seconds thought since arriving home from their session together. A quick swim in the cool ocean had temporarily washed away the pressure on her shoulders, and the warmth of the soft sand under her body and dry heat of the sun beating down on her skin had relaxed every part of her. Helping to creating a force-field of sorts that kept all her troubled thoughts at a distance and allowed her to regenerate after such an emotionally trying morning. She knew all too well that it was only a temporary reprieve, once the sun went down her mind would start to stray again. 

As the song in her ears changed to one of her favourite bands album tracks, her foot and fingers began tapping along, the upbeat tune was doing an expert job of keeping her adrift from the real world. Lost in a place where nothing mattered but the warmth of the sun and the lyrics flowing into her head. 

Growing up in Liberty City it wasn't hard to recall how the sun was longed for in the winter time and loathed in the summer. The humidity of the big city had always been torture, but the dry heat of Los Santos and the beautifully cool, frequent ocean breeze was perfect. In that moment she felt as if she could happily live and die right there on the beach. Her mind free from worries and the simplistic peace of the space around her, seemed to be worth more than anything money could buy.

However, when the song reached its bridge she slowly surfaced from her dreamlike state, and began to become aware of half a presence looming close to her. She automatically assumed it was one of her neighbour's dogs. The big fluffy white and brown one, who seemed to live for running up to her and shaking its wet fur all over her as she lay baking in the sun. She hadn't seen him for a couple of days, and guessed her time for a soaking was overdue. 

With her mind still half lost to relaxation, she blindly reached out for her iFruit phone and hit pause before flipping off her hat and cupping her hand above her eyes to shield them from the light. The glare made it difficult to instantly indentify whatever was standing beside her, but as the her eyes righted themselves to the light, she discovered that the shadow didn't belong to a dog at all. 

It was a person, a man. Tall, easily six feet, borderline stocky and with a quietly imposing presence. Hands dropped calmly by his sides as his right leg jogged slightly showing his apprehension. She couldn't make out the identifying features on his face against the light, but she didn't need to. Her mind had already broken from its restraints and was rapidly filling her head with his name again. Her skin prickled with both excitement and apprehension, the awareness of his gaze seemed to make his eyes burn her skin hotter than the sun did. 

Still squinting against the light, she quickly sat up and fumbled for her sunglasses to get a better look. Needing to make sure it was really him, _in the flesh_ , and not that she hadn't fallen off into some kind of crazy dream-like fantasy state, _again_. 

"Hey." his raspy voice called out softly, and her body responded worryingly. 

Now covered by the dark lenses, her eyes could focus clearly and properly revealed him to her. _God, he looked good!_ Handsome as the devil, standing there in grey beach shorts and matching flip-flops with a white v-neck t-shirt that seemed to accentuate his strong shoulders and arms. She focused up on his face, which stood out so clearly against the painfully bright sun behind his head, but his expression was unreadable with his own eyes behind aviators. Yet somehow she didn't need to see his eyes to be able to sense his emotional state; his usual swagger seemed to have been mislaid somewhere along the beach. 

"Hey." she replied in a gently whisper, resisting the urge to launch into a full blown panic, knowing that might scare him away before she'd had a chance to get a handle on the situation. 

Oddly enough, despite everything she'd felt about him that morning, it now seemed that relief was the controlling emotion within her. For some reason she was actually glad to see him there, even with the potential awkwardness of it all. 

As much as she'd tried to ignore it, one of her many feelings for him and all that had happened was worry. Worry about him and what actions all his poorly controlled emotions would lead him into. She knew all the digging and pushing she had done risked unravelling him worse than ever before, and there was so much potential for him to come off the rails completely in the wake of all the stirring she had done.

Seeing him there, looking much calmer and more collected than when she'd last seen him, made the ever present weight in her stomach feel a little lighter. She hadn't realized just how much she wanted to see him safe and in one piece, and free of all visible bloodstains. 

Michael's mind was in a million places at once as he stood there looking down at her. He'd been been standing a few feet away from her, silently staring, for several minutes before approaching. Trying to get control of his urges as he wondered just what the hell he was doing and how on earth he'd let himself wind up at her home, _again_. 

At first he hadn't been sure if she was the figure laying on the sand with a sunhat over her face, but as he moved closer to her his hungry eyes had focused in and examined her skin, recognizing her identifying tattoos, confirming all he wanted to know. 

Then of course he couldn't help himself, standing there shamelessly staring, greedily gobbling up the sight of her long, toned body. He'd never seen so much of her skin before, and the sporty purple bikini she wore left little to the imagination, causing a war deep within him. 

He knew it had been completely wrong of him to stand there secretly gawking at her, but he couldn't stop himself. Even now she knew he was there, he still couldn't take his eyes away. His mind warring between lust and guilt, filled with the desire to caress her sun warmed skin. Hungering to kiss all the places on her body that were exposed to the light. 

His almost overwhelming desire had threatened to take complete control of him as he watched, but somehow he'd wrestled himself away from the edge of doing something stupid, but now she was looking at him, ready to interact, he wasn't so certain of his decision to control himself or his ability to do so. 

Seeing her laid out before him, half naked and almost vulnerable, was almost a temptation too far, but the curiosity and concern he sensed coming off her seemed to defuse his lust, just a little. 

Even though half of her face was half hidden behind large shades, he could still somehow read her expression and guessed where her mind was. He'd unnerved her, he knew that much and he wanted to speak up, and explain himself, apologize. _Maybe_. But he couldn't find the power to speak out. 

He'd had a million things to say and share with her as he stood slyly watching, all his thoughts bustling for room in his throat, needing to burst out into the ears of someone who was willing to listen and care, but now he had the opportunity to speak, his tongue just felt numb. 

"What are you doing here?" she managed to force out through her unease. Fully aware of his lusty eyes on her, and how she was practically naked before him. Bitterly angry at herself for enjoying every second of it all. 

"I was just walkin'." he said distantly, and he had been. He hadn't intended to visit her when he set off walking blindly along the shore, lost in his own thoughts and emotions, not realizing where he feet were taking him until the clouds in his head cleared to reveal her laid out on the sand a few feet away from him. He didn't understand how he kept being drawn out there, but the area seemed to offer him the solace he needed and he couldn't resist the invisible pull to her.

"From where?" she asked, as she quickly fumbled into the beach bag besides her, digging in and pulling out a loose fitting, light blue cotton shirt. Grabbing for it was all a desperate attempt to feel braver around him, and prevent herself doing something really stupid but she knew it would all be in vain. He'd caught her off guard again, at her most vulnerable and it could only mean trouble for them both. 

"Del Perro." he announced, watching disappointedly as she slipped the shirt on and buttoned it up quickly. 

She frowned, and tilted her head as if confused. Her conscious mind was too busy frantically panicking over where his eyes, and mind, had been focusing to work out the distances. "That's miles away." 

"Just under two." he said. His voice was low and solemn, as if he was waiting for her to reassure him that he was welcome and not imposing on her like he knew he was. "I like the walk." 

"Seems so." she replied softly, fastening the last button and rolling up the shirt sleeves to her elbows. Taking her time doing so, hoping to buy herself a few moments to figure out what to do next, and prevent herself reacting badly and causing a scene. 

She didn't want to risk pushing him away, and she wasn't sure if it was due to her professional courtesy to offer him help, or a personal desire to have him close to her again. 

Even with sunglasses to hide behind, she didn't know where to begin with establishing a connection with boundaries there at the beach. He'd caught her off guard again, in the worst way possible, leaving her feeling naked in more ways than one, yet she couldn't find it inside herself to hate the situation. Yet she knew she had to do something to control things, and fast! 

She at least had to get him down from his vantage point, so she couldn't feel his eyes roaming all over her bare legs anymore, as she didn't like just how good it made her feel. 

"Sit down." she insisted. "You're giving me a crick in my neck looking up like this." 

Michael chuckled softly and did as he was invited to. Parking himself down on the sand besides her, only an inch or two away from her side. His body relaxed instantly to take the weight off his feet but his mind was slowly returning to a familiar state of chaos. 

He stretched out his legs, and kept himself propped up with his palms in the sand. Taking a moment or two to settle everything inside him. Breathing deep and trying to take control of the wild thoughts he was having. Watching the gentle waves lapping the shore just a few feet away from his feet, concentrating on their rhythm and not the way his hands itched to touch her. Focusing on anything he could, something to calm him, anything to stop him acknowledging what the sensations in his shorts were pushing him into. 

Even though she'd covered her top half, he could still see her long bare legs out of the corner of his eye. Filling his mind with ideas of how they'd feel wrapped around him, tempting him to do something crazy, as the smell of her tropical suntan lotion invaded his nose. Bringing him a strange nostalgic sensation that reminded him of the long summer nights of the happier days of his youth. 

Every part of him wanted to get lost in her, to give into temptation and act out all the thoughts and fantasies he'd been having, but knew just how wrong it would be to do so. How pushing himself on her would just wind up being yet another reason to hate himself and worse, for her to turn her back on him. He could risk overstepping boundaries, jumping the gun and damaging the one relationship in his life that was starting to have a real value. 

Together they sat in silence for a few moments, both feeling a little awkward for different reasons, each thinking about just what to say. Wondering individually how best to handle another impromptu meeting, and navigate clear of all the temptations and potential mistakes hovering around them. 

"You thirsty?" she asked out unexpectedly, reaching to pluck out a new bottle of water from her bag and offering it to him. 

"Yeah. Thanks." he said gratefully, welcoming the coolness into his hand and wasting no time in cracking the lid and knocking some chilled liquid down his dry throat, while Cassidy shyly pulled at the hem of her shirt. Trying to cover as much of herself as possible, desperate to regain some kind of shield to protect and strengthen herself. Find some way of limiting her physical -and potentially mental- exposure to him. She needed to get some control over herself, to stop her mind dragging her body into actions that she knew she'd only live to regret. 

"I'm sorry about droppin' in on your like that," Michael offered, quickly adding "... _earlier,_ I mean." he wasn't sorry about dropping in on her right then and there, not after the gift of witnessing her in a bikini. He wasn't sorry about that, _at all!_

"Don't apologize. Like I said, I'm glad you feel you can come to me." she told him honestly as she leant forward a little and bought her legs into her chest, folding her arms on top of her knees; dramatically reducing the amount of her bare skin he could see. It did little to trick her her conscience into thinking she was in control of herself, and him, but it at least eased the worrying tingling feeling inside her a little. 

Michael wasn't oblivious to how uncomfortable she seemed, but something told him it wasn't that she was ashamed of him seeing her body, she was just nervous about being so exposed in other ways more than the physical. 

He'd come to know her well enough over the weeks since they'd first met, to understand that she didn't function very well without her a professional shields to hide behind. Glasses, notebooks, long pants and fully buttoned up blouses kept her true self restrained, locked up and unable to do any harm, but when all that was stripped away the real Cassidy Nardovino came out to play. That bold young woman who he had longed to spend more time with. 

Cassidy did her best to ignore the voice in her head that told her to get away, _far away!_ Make excuses and flee, quickly as she could because the truth was that she didn't didn't want to leave. Despite knowing how potentially hazardous her current situation was, she didn't want to send him away, and she was scared to ask herself why she felt that way. Especially considering everything she'd learned that morning. All he'd told her in her office, the news on the radio. The harsh confirmation that the handsome son-of-a-bitch sitting beside her, making her body feel a million things inside and out, was truly the murdering criminal scumbag that his treatment file had alluded to. 

"I heard something on the radio, on the way home..." she blurted out, regretting it instantly. She'd known the second she saw him that his presence in her private space would disarm her. Making her speak without thinking again, acting on her hidden curiosities and natural instincts rather than her professional ones. 

Michael turned his head to her. " _Yeah?_ " 

Cassidy scanned his face but the sunglasses blocked her ability to read him the way she needed to. "There was a....a shootout...at the port. " she edged, cautiously. 

"Oh?"

"You know anything about that?" she coerced gently, unsure if she really the dots connected. She'd always known he was a bad man but she'd been trained to take the tales her clients told her with a grain or two of scepticism, to treat things as somewhat fictional. Yet there was no sticking to protocol now an outside source had confirmed everything about who he was. She should have been afraid to know of the kind of trouble he was caught up in, but the only thing that really scared her was how it all seemed to appeal so greatly to the darkness inside her. 

"Couldn't say, Doc." he replied, coolly. It wasn't that he didn't trust her to know the details, it was just that he didn't know where to begin explaining it. It would require a lot more time than he felt he had to tell her about everything that had happened in the reboot of his criminal career. 

Where would he start with telling her about all the twisted events that lead to Trevor taking down a Merryweather cargo jet? How would he justify allowing himself being roped him into the salvage operation? Only to then get pulled in even deeper by helping his friend sell off the weaponry to every bad guy from Mexico to Indonesia that he could get the contact information for. 

"Well, you can....if you need to?" she offered, hoping he'd take the opportunity to truly confess his sins to her. The only way she could but the breaks on everything was for him to tell her something truly terrible, something that she'd never be able to condone or understand. Something that would be unforgivable, enough to stop the connection she felt to him growing bigger and stronger by the second. Yet her fear of hearing something truly evil pushed her into speaking again, blocking his opening to tell her all the gory details. "I know I kind of derailed the session earlier. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh, or talk so much." 

"No, no. You weren't. You didn't." he assured. "Everythin' you said.... _you were right._ And it's all stuff I've known all along...but I guess you made more sense than I ever have." he told her with a faint uncertain smile. "And you gave me a lot to think about." 

Cassidy nodded softly, unsure what else to do or say without sounding unconfident or desperate for reassurance that she hadn't caused him pain and failed in her professional duties. "I meant what I said though." she told honestly. "About making a choice, I mean. You can't keep playing both sides of the fence." 

"Yeah. I know." he agreed with a nod. "I just..." he hesitated, pausing for a few moments, looking out at the water searching for a way to properly voice everything that he was feeling inside. "It's like I have two lives, and I love parts of both of them, but no one of them alone is totally what I really want, or need."

"How so?" she asked with a frown. 

"Like...the movies, I want that. _I love that!_ Being at that studio makes me happy."

"But?" she interjected and he turned his head back to face her, again warmed by the fact she was one step ahead of him. 

"I....I dunno....I mean, it makes me feel good, like I'm doing somethin' with my life, makin' a mark in the world, and the buzz from that is good, it ain't the same as with the other stuff, but I like it." he explained and she nodded understandingly, a little too understandingly. "When I'm at the studio, it's great, I'm busy, I'm in demand, I'm respected. I feel like I'm really doing somethin', like I'm someone...." his voice trailed off and he looked away. 

"And then you go home?" she spoke out on an impulsive instinct, somehow feeling like she was able to read what was going on in his head. 

He looked back to her and nodded. "Yeah! Exactly." he confirmed, his chest feeling fuller with the way she seemed to understand him so well. "Then it's like I'm back to being a nobody again, surplus to requirements. Then I start thinkin' about everythin', the past especially. Missin' the old days, missin' being someone different, that rush that made all the bullshit at home worth it. Hatin' that I gave it all up for what I got now." he confessed. "And then I start feelin' guilty again...for all the shit I did, everyone I hurt...and thinkin' how much of an asshole I am to resent my family for givin' me a reason to get out alive." he paused for another moment, ordering his thoughts and chastising himself for letting his mouth get away from him again. "And it's like you said, I have to be grateful for all that, because I got the movie gig because of all this shit, but....I dunno....I guess I'm never gonna be happy or really feel....I dunno, _complete_ I guess." 

Cassidy fought the urge to bite her lip, and swallowed hard. Trying to think of a professional response over a more personal and intuitive one. "Feeling complete doesn't just happen, it takes work. And you have a lot of things in your life to be grateful for, things that will make you happy, if you let them." 

Michael gave an empty laugh but swallowed a sarcastic response, refusing to allow his sourness for his life resurface and impact on her, he knew she was only trying to help. "What if I don't want to let them?" he released without a thought. "What if I'm done with fightin' to make things work where they don't."

"Well, that's a choice only you can make, and one you have to take seriously." she insisted. 

"Yeah...I know." he nodded, his eyes going back to the water once more. "I just feel like..." he stopped and sighed, he didn't know how to say what he was feeling and didn't want to start rambling and undoing himself. "I just want things to be different. _Better._ I want some things to change, and others to stay the same, I wanna be able to do what I know will make me happy, but I don't know how to make any of it happen." 

"Well you need to think about what you really want to change and then figure out the right way to achieve it." she insisted. "Contrary to the movies, happiness actually takes work." 

Michael chuckled. "Well, apparently workin' for shit ain't my strong point." he remarked, not forgetting how she'd pulled him up on his fast-tracked career a few weeks earlier in her living room. 

"You can change that." she encouraged. "You're never too old to better yourself." 

"I don't know about that." he dismissed gently. "I just don't know where to start, with how to put it all together with where I am now, how to make the right changes and not just more mistakes..."

"I know it's hard, but if you want to change things, you can. It is possible." she assured, speaking from experience. 

He scanned her face again, wishing he could see her eyes, but he didn't need to know that familiar look of deep understanding was present. "You remember when we first met, I said I had an opportunity comin' up?" he began an attempt to steer off a subject that could completely collapse his resolve to stay with his family and be the faithful man he'd promised to be. 

She wasn't sure if she should invite him to open up about what choices he was making or advise him to stick a pin in whatever he was feeling for another time, somewhere more suitable where she'd feel more able to handle everything, but her instincts said _'let him talk'_. He needed to be with someone in his time of turmoil, and the truth was, so did she. 

"I remember..." she confirmed softly, unsure of the path he was taking. 

Michael took a deep breath. He knew it was a risky topic to broach with her; vocalizing his crimes, past, present or future made them real and he feared it would make her see what a monster he really was. Above all, he had to be careful with his words, afraid of incriminating himself and moving past the point of redemption with her. "With you sayin' all those things today....and all this shit with Trevor lately, it's kinda makin' me kinda revaluate goin' through with it." 

"That's good." she smiled softly. 

"Yeah, I guess....but it's all come too late....I don't think I can avoid makin' this next mistake. I have to do it to help someone out." he told her solemnly. "And I know that don't make it right." he cut in quickly, knowing exactly what she'd say about blaming others and he didn't want to hear it. " _But_...." he trailed off, unsure where to go next or how to explain the way he was feeling about his life choices, without repeating everything he'd said earlier that day. "I just...I dunno....I guess I'm just a fuckin' idiot." he dismissed, wishing he'd met her months earlier when she maybe could have stopped him making all his recent mistakes. 

"You're not an idiot." she soothed. "You're just.... _complicated_." she offered sweetly and Michael gave an empty chuckle. 

He loathed the way he was feeling about his life, confused by the different directions he was pulled in and constant second guessing himself and all that was around him. He wasn't a man who did well with the grey areas in life; he needed things to be black and white, good and evil. However the lines had blurred at some point, and he wasn't sure how to bring them back into focus and find the direction he needed to take. How to stop himself taking foolish risks in both work, and love. 

Cassidy gave him a moment or two to respond vocally, but he didn't. He just kept looking at the water thoughtfully, letting his turmoil get the best of him. 

"Talking it out can help." she offered, sensing he was drowning in his troubles; hoping she could somehow convince him to avoid risking his life and liberty one more time. 

He liked how she seemed legitimately concerned for him, it was novel to have someone how seemed to give a shit, but it didn't help with making his thoughts for any logical order. He wanted to tell her that despite feeling apprehension and shame for all the ill deeps of the forthcoming heist, he was actually excited about it. Worryingly so. 

He wanted to confess all he'd done, shout out that he'd loved every second of the gun fight he'd caught up in earlier, and admit that maybe didn't really feel as bad as he should about killing the warlords he'd got tangled up with. He wanted to declare that he enjoyed being a bad person, that maybe he felt right doing wrong things, but he was ashamed to admit the fact. Worse so because he feared that part of himself was the very thing encouraging him to throw caution to the wind and make a move on the woman he desired so desperately. 

He needed the thrill and distraction, the very things she silently offered to him. The heists, gunfights, the cheating, it was all a reminder that he was still alive and not wasting away in the American Nightmare he'd made for himself. 

"I know." he said, unable to offer anything else. 

Cassidy swallowed a sigh and looked back to the ocean for a moment searching for clarity, hoping she could find a way to move forward and unpick the issues he'd sewn up within the fabric of himself, but the smell of him distracted her mind. Primal urges trying to snap the fine thread of professional thought that she was still clinging too. The scent of expensive cologne mixing with the intensely appealing musky smell of a man who'd been baking under a hot sun, sending gentle waves of warmth through her, over and over. 

She took a deep silent breath, and forced herself to ignore her body's reaction, thinking hard about a way to tap into the issues he was trying to raise. Thinking back to the sessions they'd had together, searching for a way to lead the conversation without tipping the balance one way or the other. 

She'd come to realize that if she started on something basic, he'd take the lead and reveal more about the issues that were really bugging him. It seemed that if she wanted to get to the root cause, and dig out the truth, she had to work back to front. Start with something unrelated an engineer it to relate back to what he was really wanting to get at. 

"How are things at the studio?" she asked, hoping it was a good place to start undoing all the knots in his head. 

Michael closed his eyes for a moment, somewhat relieved that she'd switched subject and taken the pressure off revealing the ugliness of himself and his crimes to her. 

"Work's good." he told. "There's problems, but it's shit I can fix." he saw her eyebrows raise behind her sunglasses, encouraging him to continue. "Solomon wants this one actor on a new project, only he's holdin' out for us to offer him a bigger deal. He ain't worth half of what he's askin' for, but he's really diggin' in his heels because he knows he's wanted." he sighed. "It's gonna become a real drama before much longer." 

"Sounds like it." she agreed, mindlessly playing with the ponytail tied at the nape of her neck. "Wish I had a suggestion on how to work it out, but I'm not as wise to Vinewood politics as I maybe should be." 

Michael chuckled softly, already feeling a little lighter for her navigating away from the darkness that was trying to seep out. "That'll make two of us then. I'm still learnin' how all this shit works." 

Another few moments of silence settled on them, both looking out to the ocean for the next thing to say. Michael sipped cold water from the bottle he'd been given and Cassidy tried not to fidget or tug at her shirt again, both searching for an idea on how to carry the conversation, and the pace but they both felt stalled. Unable to go back to the pressing issues of the day, but unsure how to move forward. 

She wanted to speak up, find her feet and ease into the role of his therapist again, to uncover all his hidden concerns and oust the troubles in his mind, but she couldn't focus properly enough to take the lead. Her throat felt hot and dry and the haze in her head was growing thicker. Even with sunglasses hiding her eyes, her truths, from him, it was far too hard to play the professional when she felt so exposed and over stimulated by his mere presence. 

They'd never sat so close before. She'd caught a whiff off his cologne on several occasions, and it had made parts of her flutter, but their bodies being so close, almost touching. Close enough for her to feel the heat of his strong body, that gave off all the right pheromones, was almost too much. 

"How's life at home? We didn't get a chance to discuss how things are with you and Amanda now, after our last session." she asked out in spite of herself. Desperate to distract herself from the wickedly pleasurable sensations developing inside with a sour taste of their reality. 

He blew out a sigh. "Shitty." he gave. "We've been fightin'....a lot. We had a huge blow up just before I came down here." 

"Can I ask what about?" she asked, unsure if she really wanted to know. She'd been fretting about the issues they'd touched on during their last scheduled session. All the animosity he'd shown for his wife was troubling, and she had feared her input had only added fuel to the flames. 

Michael wanted to tell her that she could ask him anything she wanted, hoping she would take the hint and probe back deeper into his current problems and force out everything he wanted to say, somehow knowing she would help him make sense of it all, but he held it back. 

"I don't even know why I started it to be honest." he pondered. "I guess everythin' from the last few days just got up on top of me again....maybe I was just lookin' to be punished." he was almost joking about that, _almost._ He looked to Cassidy and she gave him a soft smile, feeling strangely grateful that he'd taken on board what she'd said in her office. "She's on edge about Trevor, and I'm on edge about fuckin' everythin', so the slightest push from her....and I go off!" he admitted. 

"It seems like Trevor is a big source of conflict for you." Cassidy mentally clapped her hands, it seemed she'd directed him onto the right path as she'd planned. They were back talking about Trevor, who seemed to be synonymous with Michael's criminal life, and she guessed that with a little more coaxing he'd let her into his secret plans and properly unravel all his troubles for her again. 

"You can say that again." he agreed. "As if it ain't bad enough that he pulls me into all his bullshit, he seems to infect every corner of my life. Amanda fuckin' hates him because she's afraid he'll ruin _her_ life, and he hates her because he thinks _she_ ruined _mine_." 

Cassidy frowned, worried they were tumbling into risky waters again, but the troubling amount of curiosity she had about his married life wouldn't let her resist asking. "And you agree?" 

Michael took a moment to think on the point he'd pondered for years, and much more in recent weeks. Their session that morning and the week before had bought so many negative feelings about his family up to the surface of his consciousness. He didn't want to admit to it but everything he felt currently, he had in fact felt all along. It was something that had turned his marriage toxic years ago and indirectly resulted in him being in the situation he was presently. 

"Maybe." he offered, hesitating for a moment trying to stop himself unleashing the honestly, but he couldn't hold it back. "I mean, it's him who's been pullin' me back into this all shit again....but you know, like I said...I gave up the life for her and the kids, but the shit she did wound up forcin' me back into it all over again..." he reminded, hoping she wouldn't shove another pearl of wisdom about placing blame down his throat. "It's like they both hate each other for the same reasons, but me and him mended a lot of fences recently. I don't think we'll ever be one hundred percent okay with each other though, and he keeps playin' the guilt card, makin' me feel bad about what I did to him to rope me into his bullshit." 

"Do you feel like you owe him something?" 

"I guess so." he shrugged. "I really screwed him over, I know that, but at the same time, I helped him make more money that he could ever spend. He's just one of those guys who can't stand down, he doesn't need to go around startin' shit but he keeps doing it, for the kicks, and I guess he likes havin' someone along for the ride. Someone to blame maybe...." 

Cassidy dipped her head and looked over her sunglasses at him again, with that look that made him feel like he was only an inch tall and caused his pants to become a size smaller. "Seems like you two have a lot in common." she teased gently. 

Michael chuckled guiltily. "Yeah! That's what worries me." he said with a faint smile on his lips, liking the way she had with him. "I mean, he's a crazy mother fucker. So I get why Amanda doesn't want him back in our lives...Goin' to get a cup of coffee with him ain't without risk to life and limb." he joked and Cassidy chuckled softly. "He's got potential to fuck things up for me in a big way, but as wild as he is and as much as I hate to admit it...he's got a good eye for business, and he's pretty straight forward. I guess I might be an idiot for doing it, but I actually trust him....more than I trust Amanda anyway." he scoffed. 

He knew all too well that trust was the most important part of any relationship, whether it came to running a heist or cohabiting. Trust was the one true foundation and once it crumbled, there was very little that could ever truly repair it. The death of trust was the reason his wife cheated, and his lies were the reason the past he'd tried to out run caught up with him. He knew he had to start putting more stock in honesty if he ever wanted to be happy and free from the bullshit in his life. 

Cassidy nodded in agreement, looking at him thoughtfully, unsure where to go with what he was now giving her. "So why does he think she ruined your life?" she asked out. Instantly chastising herself for prying that inch too far, getting off track and indulging her own curiosities, letting a personal interest take command over her professional direction. 

Michael turned his head to look over her face for a moment. Wishing he could see her pretty blue eyes beneath her sunglasses. Wanting to know if she was asking as a therapist, or something more. 

"Because she got pregnant and changed my priorities." Michael told, looking away from her again but Cassidy nodded softly anyway, showing her understanding. "She came between us..."

Suddenly a light switched on in her head, taking her by surprise. Making her strikingly aware of a possibility she naively hadn't considered before. She was a little shocked that she hadn't seen the clues before, and worried that maybe she had been reading his signs he was giving her all wrong. 

"Were you and Trevor...." she hesitated, waiting for him to turn and look at her before continuing. " _You know?_..." her eyebrows raised. 

Michael frowned for a moment, not realizing what she was getting at but then it suddenly dawned on him. "Oh shit! _No!_ " he dismissed, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline. " _God no!_ I'm not gay, Doc." 

She almost laughed at his reaction. "You can tell me if you are." she assured enthusiastically. "A lot of my clients are gay and struggling with their sexuality." she gave, feeling the strangest sense of relief at the very possibility. It would certainly make her life much simpler if she knew the vibe she got from him, and all the looks he kept giving her, weren't founded in lust afterall. 

Michael shook his head adamantly, his mouth tight and dismissive. "I'm not!" he said firmly. "But it'd probably be a fuck load easier if I was. Women ain't exactly my strong suit." he said sarcastically and Cassidy gave a soft chuckle, a little embarrassed that she'd asked such a thing. "I mean, I think we probably fucked the same women a few times." he confirmed crassly. "...and Trevor is into God only knows what..." he continued. "...but it was never any of that kinda stuff with us." he told. "We were just real tight, as crazy as he was and much as he drove me fuckin' nuts, he was like my brother. We ran together for years. He was the longest, maybe the most stable, relationship I've ever had...and that's fuckin' scary." he chuckled. "We were....what do the kids call it?" he paused, trying to remember one of his son's expressions. " _Ride or die?_ " Cassidy couldn't help but laugh at his attempt to use street slang, and Michael's face softened into a smile, pleased he'd amused her for a moment.

"I get it." she nodded, smiling making Michael feel warm inside. 

He held onto the good feeling for as long as he could, but it faded quickly like the sun behind a cloud. "We'd been runnin' together for years before I met Amanda." he explained. "When she came up pregnant, life had to change. I couldn't be the guy he knew anymore, I had to start being responsible, put someone else first. And shit...I didn't want to change...and I didn't want to be a dad, but more than that, I didn't want to be like _my dad_." he confessed, his voice tight with a torrent of emotions threatening to burst forward once again. "I had to do right by her. _You know?_ I had to try and make it work....I guess I wanted to prove to myself that I could be a better dad than mine was..." Michael looked to her confirmation that she understood where he was coming from, and what he was indirectly trying to say. 

Cassidy nodded, encouraging him to continue but she wasn't sure she wanted him to. Hearing about his past, how rocky the foundation of his marriage was, it was the perfect ingredient to feed into the ridiculous desires and fantasies that plagued her mind when she was alone with her thoughts of him. 

"It all became about doin' right by her and the kids..." he continued. "...I couldn't keep followin' Trevor's crazy plans to get rich....And he hated that she got in the way of his fun, thinks she made me go soft." he paused, his mind going back almost twenty-two years to the day he was shown a small piece of white plastic with the news he'd dreaded his whole life. A positive pregnancy test that changed everything he'd known and loved since failing his football career. "....I just really didn't want to become my old man, I wanted to do right by my kids, give them a good life. So I stabbed everyone in the back to do right by my family...but in the end I failed 'em anyways." he said, his voice low, almost guilty sounding. 

Cassidy opened her mouth to speak, wanting to take the opportunity to ask him about his past again. Wanting to try and go back to some semblance of professional practice, to put their earlier session into perspective. Hoping to find some connections between the man who made him and the man who Michael had become, but he had other things on his mind. Other thoughts he'd been desperate to voice and share, unaware of the influence his revelations could have on the woman besides him. 

"And shit, I never wanted to get married..." he confessed boldly. "I saw how fucked up things were for my folks, and I didn't want that. Endin' up stuck together out of sense of duty or some bullshit....But I was naive enough to think a ring would fix it all. Turn the lust into love, but it never did." he told. 

Cassidy nodded understandingly. She'd heard that more than a few times in her line of work but she had never needed to hide her personal reaction before. She longed to have her notepad to bury her face in, or a pen to fiddle with, anything to distract her from the way her shoulders were lifting on hearing the confirmation she'd unknowing hungered for. 

Michael looked back out to the ocean, his mind and mouth running were away from him, hand in hand and he didn't care. He needed to offload, to speak about his marriage, which was one of the biggest problems he had. Something he struggled with far more than any of criminal endeavours or the guilt that went along with them. 

"And I think, maybe I was lonely....tired of not having a reason to make it home." he confessed darkly. "...I liked her well enough, she was hot and she liked me too....but she was young and even back then and I guess I knew she was more into my money than anything else." he considered. "I wound up payin' for her to get new tits....then while she was hangin' around she ended up findin' out a lot about the scores me and Trevor were runnin' with Brad...." he hesitated, realizing Cassidy probably had no idea who he was talking about. "He was another old runnin' buddy..." he clarified, and she nodded showing she was following, she already knew enough from Friedlander's notes. "....He was a real piece of work too, couldn't ever keep his fuckin' mouth shut." he snarled. "Him and Trevor, together? Fuck me! They were both reckless, and I had to reel 'em in all the time, stop them blowing all their money on women and drugs. So, I guess maybe she saw me as the man-with-the-plan, _so to speak_. She knew I was the gravy-train to get on." 

"I'm sure it was more than that." Cassidy offered, not liking to hear how he was obviously acutely aware of the mistakes he'd made. How he'd come to demonize his wife's initial motives over their years of marriage. He surely wasn't the innocent victim in the story, and it took two to make another life, but the way he told it was compelling and played to her sympathies. 

Michael put his eyes back on her, focusing on her face causing him to properly acknowledge the warm feeling in his belly that he got from the way she looked at him. The way she just seemed to understand everything he was saying, and felt the pain of it all, but still tried to keep him positive. 

"It wasn't." he dismissed. "I mean, we were both young and good lookin', great together in the sack...." he paused for a beat, scanning her face for a reaction, unknowingly trying to provoke her. "But I never felt anythin' real with her. The kinda shit that's supposed to make you think she's _the one_." he looked at her deeply, his gaze penetrating through her sunglasses, making her glance away from him. 

He was unsure about why he was telling her everything he was, he had bigger problems he needed her help with, but he wanted her to know it all. He needed to her understand why he was unhappy, why he was chasing his youth with dangerous crimes and just looking for an excuse to finally put an end twenty-some years of emptiness. 

"We never really talked to each other either or anythin' either." he continued, "We didn't really date that much...I used to pick her up from the club and we'd go eat or get drunk somewhere, then go home and..." he stopped short, to spare her blushes. Taking a moment to pause and try to gage her reaction, but as he expect she was the stony faced shrink she'd been trained to be. 

"And somehow it just went from a few casual tumbles in the sack to pregnancy and then down the aisle, and.... I never had chance to really fall in love with her, you know?" he asked but didn't really need confirmation that she was listening or understanding - she couldn't avoid it, he was practically sky writing details of his unhappiness for her. >"We fought more times than we laughed." he added. "And I guess I never let myself try to make it somethin' more, because it never felt like she was really mine." he admitted. 

Cassidy frowned. "What'd you mean?"

"She kinda worked for me...." he said almost cryptically, gauging the depth of Cassidy's knowledge and judgment for his past, but she just nodded, unsurprised. She knew he used to be a dope dealing pimp, and she'd seen through connections in her own past just how often working girls ended up being sucked into the big talk of the men who profited from them. 

"So, I guess I was detached from her from the start." he continued. "I mean, I cared about her...I still do..." he admitted honestly. "But lately, I'm realizin' I don't think I was ever _in love_ with her....not like I think I should have been. I never felt that crazy love for her, like in the movies. Feelin' like I couldn't stop thinkin' about her, wantin' to be around her all the time." he was talking far more than he knew he should, but he couldn't stop himself, making Cassidy wish the ground would open up and swallow her down. "....I think I kinda avoided spendin' time with her too, couldn't stand to remind myself of the choices I made. I think I knew all along that she was probably with other guys while I was gone, but I don't remember ever really feelin' jealous or anythin'...and maybe that's why I didn't care enough when I found out she was cheatin' the first time around."

Unwilling to acknowledge what he was really getting at, Cassidy dismissed the telltale thoughts in her head, refusing to buy into his sob story of an empty marriage of convenience. Knowing he was probably only seeing things in that frame of mind as a way to justify his own draw towards infidelity. 

"I'm pretty sure pulling some guys house down because you found him in bed with your wife suggests a degree of jealousy." she said in an almost jokey tone. 

Michael chuckled. "Yeah, but that wasn't the first time." he told. "Was more like the eleventh or twelfth time. And anyway....the house thing more about my male pride." he admitted almost cockily. "Straw that broke the donkey's back and all that shit. Findin' that asshole in my bed made me realize that I 'd been kiddin' myself. Kinda woke me up to what we spoke about earlier, the bubble...." he hoped she remembered everything he'd said about how he felt for the life he'd trapped himself in, and her nod confirmed she did. "Seein' it with my own eyes, I just couldn't let that go." he told. "But I think...you know...maybe if we'd had the spark at the start, neither of us would have cheated in the first place. We could have had the happy endin' I always wanted."

"I hate to break it to you, Michael..." she said softly. "But what you're saying here is real life, this is how it goes." his eyebrows furrowed, bracing for yet another telling off. "I've seen so many couples who had that spark and lost it, and now they're just forcing themselves to keep making it work. If you started your marriage to Amanda without it, then you're no worse off than anyone else who had it and lost it. _In fact_ , maybe you're better off." she rambled. "You can't truly miss what you never really had." 

Michael looked at her deeply, he'd always sensed there was something jaded behind her eyes. Some kind of disenchantment with the world and the people in it; wounds on her heart that hadn't ever full healed. "Hey! Aren't you supposed to be my positive and agreeable therapist?" he teased, finding her cynicism oddly appealing. 

"Sorry." she said, looking away coyly. 

"Don't be." Michael smiled softly, feeling a warmth in his chest for the way she seemed so open to him now. So engaged in what he was saying, even without her fancy work clothes or notepad and the security of her office around her. "I like it when you level with me." he told her and she smiled faintly. "And you're right. I guess all this time I've been feelin' like a failure when really I'm no different to everyone else who's been unhappily married for two decades." he thought for a moment. "I guess that's what I hate the most, being the same as everyone else. Being average." 

She nodded, relieved to see they'd made a slight breakthrough in his admission and was showing signs of understanding himself more. "That's why the movies always end with 'happily-ever-after', you know?" she said out without over thinking it, and his ears tuned in sharply sensing this was Cassidy, not Doctor Nardovino talking. "They never let you see the hero and his girl going back to normality and growing to hate each other....Fighting all the time because she obsesses over some phony TV lifestyle guru and he leaves wet towels on the bathroom floor and can't learn to put the toilet seat down." she said matter-of-factly. 

Michael couldn't help himself, and let out a deep joyous laugh; effortlessly relating to what she said. His reaction surprised her, and she sucked on her bottom lip nervously, unsure if she should enjoy the moment or try to ruin it somehow, fearing the way he was looking at her, the smile on his lips and the sparkle in his eyes that she could visualize so clearly even behind the tinted lenses of his glasses.

"Vinewood always lets you see the hero defeat evil..." she added quickly. "... and get the girl, but I haven't yet seen a movie that shows what really happens a couple of years after the credits roll. When the magic and excitement has died off." she was hoping her musing would distract his thoughts for potentially doing something silly. Trying to delicately tell him that if he was thinking something between them would be different, that he'd wind up being wrong. 

"Maybe I should make one?" Michael asked, his tone hopeful as he watched the way the ocean breeze played with the loose strands of hair that escaped her ponytail. 

Cassidy chuckled. "Do it! I think people need to see what happens in the real world, when the fairytale couple grow to love each other only like an old family dog...." Michael frowned curiously, urging her to elaborate on her point. "You know?...You love it well enough, and don't want to have it put down, but you're kind of getting sick of finding a turd on the kitchen floor every morning."  
Michael broke out in laughter again, feeling the way his body gave to the giggles relaxing him in ways few other things ever did. "That's exactly it." he nodded with a grin. Oddly enjoying the way her true, yet somewhat cynical, outlook on the world made him realize the truths he'd been wilfully blind to. 

"Real life means making it work though." she insisted calming the situation and not wanting him to get too carried away. "You need to eventually accept that every spark burns out, and you have to stop thinking about all those movie moments that never happened and just appreciate the ending you got instead. Shit happens and it pulls people apart, regardless of how magical things began or how good they could have been." she told negatively. "Nothing in this world is forever, even love."

The amusement in Michael's blood instantly faded and he looked at her deeply. He wanted to know what was making her say such things, but he was unable to properly search for the truth that she hid behind her eyes. Inside she clearly kept a lot of hurt, and he wanted to unravel it all. He'd never been a great listener, he was often selfish and uninterested in others, but with her, he was feeling things he'd never felt before. 

When he looked at her full lips, his head usually filled with images of them wrapped around certain parts of his body. Visions of kissing her passionately, but this time something was awakening inside, filling him with a stronger desire, one which seemed to desperately need to witness those lips only speaking her truths. 

He wanted to understand the aching he'd sensed within her, discover what haunted her mind. More than perhaps he even wanted to explore her physically, he was starting to want to know her mind just as much as her body. That alone was a troubling feeling, alien to all he'd known in his past relationships, but the feeling was one he couldn't find the strength to ignore or chase away. He wanted to know her, inside as well as out. For the first time in his life, someone else's feelings and wellbeing were slowly but surely becoming more important than his own. 

"I don't think anyone ever stops thinking about what would have been if they'd made different choices, Cass." he told her, not realizing it was the first time he'd directly referred her by name. Exposing the fact that he'd been thinking of her as far more than his doctor since the moment they met. "I think deep down everyone is wishin' for a chance to know what should have been instead or what _could_ be." 

She'd heard him say her name well enough, but wilfully ignored what she knew it meant. Too afraid to acknowledge just how much he might have been thinking about her outside of their sessions. Refusing to admit to herself just how nice it felt to hear him call her something other than 'Doc'. 

A cold shiver ran up her back, and she swallowed hard. Wishing they were in her office, somewhere she could hide herself away, prevent herself from being foolish. The way he was looking at her, the vibes she was feeling from him, the way there were both talking, it was all getting to be too much. It all spelled disaster for everything they knew.

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda." she shrugged, trying as hard as she could to emotionally distance herself from the moment. 

"Story of my fuckin' life." he muttered. 

A silence fell on them again as they looked out to the water once more. Each struggling with their inner thoughts, mulling over everything that had just been said. Searching for an acceptable way to move the conversation forward. Michael trying to find a decent way of tapping into her head without frightening her off, as she scrambled for a way to shut down the conversation and steer it away from the edge of the cliff they were racing towards. 

Michael glanced to her again, desperate to have his questions about her frame of mind answered. He wanted to ask about her past so badly, eager to play her therapist for a while. Find out why she was there with him and not happily settled down with a handsome young husband and family of her own. He needed to understand how she seemed to get everything he said about his criminal activities. To know why she seemed to isolate herself from the world, hide her true self behind professionalism. Discover how she managed to live as two different people without cracking up under the stain as he had - hoping she could give him some tips. 

"So, you gonna tell me what that's for?" he asked without thinking, reaching out and gently rubbing his index finger over her forearm tattoo. 

She almost flinched at the tingle his touch bought to her skin, but stopped herself just in time. Her mouth moved to chastise him for it, but she couldn't manage it through the warmth that swelled in her. The odd sense of comfort that she felt from physical contact with another person, after isolating herself from the world for so long.  
"I just liked the design." she lied, pulling her arm back into her, protecting herself.

"Bullshit!" he dismissed, knowing everything meant something, especially with a woman like her. "It's got meanin'.... _tell me_..." he insisted, making her sigh and look away from him. He knew what was about to come out of her mouth and he beat her to it, mimicking her playfully. " _It's not about me Michael, it's about you.._ "

She couldn't stop a laugh breaking out, diluting the anxiety she felt. "I do not sound like that!" she defended. 

"Yeh, ya do!" he smirked. 

She bit her lip, trying to restrain a smile. He was bad for her, but she couldn't resist him. His nerve and charm melted her defences, making her want to surrender to him completely. The words he spoke played to parts of her that she'd tried so hard to ignore, and his mere presence seemed to promise so much of what she'd secretly craved, but she couldn't let herself slip into his arms. 

"It's just a reminder that some things need to be pulled backward in order to move forward." 

Michael's expression turned deep, mulling it over for a beat. "I like that." 

"Thanks." she said in a whisper. Worry creeping up her back that said she was crossing too far into unchartered territory; letting him lead her astray again. Allowing him to become _her_ therapist, or worse, something much more. 

"What about the other one." he asked brazenly, figuring it was now or never. 

She looked at him, surprised that he'd noticed. her hand going to her side where the ink lay. Before she knew what she was doing, she was lifting up her shirt to show him. 

They both looked down at the intricate marking on her side. Showing him that it was a bespoke design placed on her flank. Mostly black with delicate shadings of greys, etching out the silhouette of a woman, with delicately stylised angel wings, perched on swirling lines and unusual patterns, tat matched those used in her arrow tattoo. It was beautiful, intricately done and obviously holding much meaning. 

He noted that blended into the design was a date, and some quick mental maths told Michael whatever happened on that date, occurred almost nine years earlier, and it made him more curious about her than ever. 

"It was a cover up..." she said quickly, without thinking. 

"I like it." he said. Full of questions about the meaning behind it, but more intrigued by her claim. "D'ya have to cover over some guys name or somethin'?" he teased. 

"Yeah, something like that." she said nonchalantly. Covering herself back up again and looking away from him. "Product of a misspent youth."

"Bet it wasn't as misspent as mine?" he teased, unaware. 

"You'd be surprised." she mumbled.

Michael almost grinned, singing out. "I knew it! I fuckin' knew it!" she turned her head to him, her eyebrows furrowed, telling him that her eyes were questioning him behind her shades. "You've got this thing about you."

"What _thing_?" she exclaimed, making a face. "I don't have a _thing!_ " 

He chuckled at her weak defence. "You do. Like you've been through some shit in your time. Like maybe you were a bit of a bad girl back in the day. "

She gave a huff of laughter. "Really?"

Michael shrugged. "Yeah. You gonna tell me about it?" 

"Nope." she said flatly, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "Not unless you go qualify as a therapist first." 

He laughed deeply. "Sharin' is carin'." 

"I'm sure it is." she replied with an adamant but amused tone, not knowing what else to say. She smiled at him softly, letting him know that she didn't resent him for reading her, but it was just that she couldn't reveal herself to him. Not as her client, or just a regular guy. It wasn't safe for her to be honest, and she was too guarded to take any risks. Her secrets would be her destruction, she knew that all too well, and it had forced her to fiercely protect her privacy, even from the people she felt she could come to trust. 

She looked away from him, searching her professional repertoire for a way to get the spotlight off herself, as she began rubbing her arms as if she was cold. Looking to her right, up the north, noticing a black cloud was building on the horizon. "Looks it's gonna rain." she said, thinking aloud. 

Michael felt that was more symbolic than she'd perhaps even realized, and he sighed softly, guessing he'd outstayed his welcome. "I guess I should get back." he offered. He didn't want to leave, but he couldn't deny she was obviously feeling a little uncomfortable with him prying into her head. 

He wasn't a good man, they both knew that, and even with as much as he desperately wanted to know her, his conscience still had a loud enough voice to speak up and stop him prying or pushing too hard. It was wrong to corner her there and then, and he knew it. 

"I can give you a ride back to your car, if you want." she offered impulsively, without thinking the offer through. 

His first reaction was to jump at the chance, but he held himself back. "I don't wanna putchya out." 

"It's cool." she shrugged, knowing she'd put her foot in it too deep to pull away clean. "I've gotta go out on a grocery run anyways. There's only so long a girl can survive on peanut butter and chips." she joked awkwardly and Michael chuckled. 

"You could always go to dinner with me." he offered, without thinking. His heart instantly floating up on the sudden geyser of hope that erupted in his chest. 

"You know I can't do that." she rejected delicately. Ignoring the alarm bells going on off in her head, the voices of her professors that screamed about how he was showing all the signs of transference. How she had been horribly unprofessional and weak around him as they sat there in the sand, baring their souls. 

Michael sighed softly, filled with disappointment. "I know, but it was worth a shot." 

They looked at each other, eyes still hidden behind the lenses of their sunglasses. Expressions unreadable as they both let their minds wander to the possibilities of what could be between them. A whole imaginary evening playing out in their heads, dinner and conversation, maybe a walk along the pier together, then back home to....

Cassidy cleared her throat, breaking the moment. Reminding herself that he was not only her patient, but also a married man. She couldn't let herself think of him in that way, _ever!_

Over the course of her young life, she'd held some questionable morals, but she'd worked hard to become a better person and attempt to forgive herself for all she'd done. Struggling to get herself on the right track, she couldn't afford to throw it all away for quick gratification and a dance with the flames of sin again. She didn't need another mistake to hate herself for.

"We better get going, before the rain hits." she announced. Keen to put some distance between them and the emotions inside her that threatened to break her apart right there on the sand.

She stood first, and he quickly followed. Making sure to keep his eyes on the water as bent to rummaged out her car keys from her bag, before quickly stuffing all her things back in it and gathering up her towel. 

Without a word to each other, they headed back up the sandy path besides her house that lead up to her driveway. She remotely unlocked her car and told him to get in. Explaining she needed to grab her wallet quickly, and Michael did as he was told. Climbing into the passenger seat and breathing in deeply. The car smelled like her perfume and it made his every fibre tingle with desire. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, and let his mind play with a fantasy for a moment but the urge to snoop around grew rapidly. Filling him with the need to take the opportunity to source more clues about her. 

He took off his sunglasses and noted that the car was obviously new. Spotless but not without her own little marks of personality on it, in the form of a collection of things hanging from her rear-view mirror. 

He reached up and cupped the primary string of beads hung from the rear-view, made of little plastic red skulls and silver stars along with a miniature surfboard painted in reds and purples with a silhouetted palm tree emblazoned on it. Most interestingly, there was a passport sided photo, laminated and hanging from a string cord, he plucked it out and looked closely at it.  
It showed Cassidy, only she much younger, maybe just into her teens and with much shorter, almost boyish hair. Pretty as ever, wearing a black shirt and a choker, the typical turn of the millennium rebellious young teen, borderline goth look, that he vaguely remembered some of the local kids back in the mid-west sporting. 

She was tightly hugging another girl of a similar age, both pulling similar silly faces, but looking so different in every other way. The other girl was dressed in brighter clothes that went well with her golden blonde hair. They looked like ying and yang together, which made him reject the possibility of them being sisters, but the happiness he saw in both their eyes said they were closer than close. 

He was curious about the nameless girl, but was more relief that she didn't have picture of a guy hanging in its place. He let go of the picture, allowing it to swing from the mirror gently as he glanced over to her front door, to check she wasn't back yet, before he popped the glove box.  
Finding a pack of gum and menthol cigarettes hiding inside, along with some spare sunglasses and a small wallet of CD's. Curiosity getting the better of him, he took out the wallet and leant back into his seat, putting the water bottle he was still holding between his knees before unzipping the cover and flicking through the disks inside. They were all burned copies, labelled vague things like mix-number-x. He wanted to pick one out, and slide it into the CD player, to listen and get an idea of who she was, but there was no time. She was out of the house and headed for the car already and he had to scramble to put things back where he found them. 

He clicked the glove box closed, and sat up straight and quickly put his seat belt on, trying to look innocent as she walked around the car and got in. Unable to resist looking her way as she slid into the car, noticing she'd changed into long jeans and a pair of canvas sneakers without laces in. She made sure to avoid looking at him, as she tucked her wallet into the car door and put her key in the ignition. Trying not to notice the way her head went all giddy with how the car now smelled like nothing but him. 

She turned the engine over and buckled up without saying a word; she didn't know what to say. She'd been inside trying to get her head straight. Forcing herself to pull it together and resist giving into the pull she felt towards him. Reprimanding herself for the mess she'd put herself in. Offering him a ride? Revealing so much of herself? What the hell was she doing? Where were the defences she'd built? How had she allowed him to disarm and unmask her again? 

She reassured herself that she only had to keep it together for another five minutes -if traffic was forgiving- and she'd be free of him. Able to wallow in her mistakes and frustrations alone for the rest of the night. 

The radio fired up as she pulled off the driveway and pointed her car in the direction of the big pier, and they set off. As they drove along her street, the radio commercials cleared the way the station's music of choice and Michael started laughing to himself. 

"What's funny?" she asked him, as she merged onto the Great Ocean Highway. 

"West Coast Classics? _Really?_ " he chuckled, surprised by what he was hearing her car was tuned into. 

"What?" she frowned, looking at him for the first time without anything covering her eyes, a playful defence taking her over. Her conscious mind too focused on gaining speed on the highway to keep the ruins of her professional defences in place. "Just because I got a PhD, I can't like the hipiddy-hop?" 

Michael laughed again, amused by her unfamiliar playfulness and the sparkle in her eyes. "I didn't say that....I just....you know, after what you were listenin' to a couple weeks back, I didn't think this would be your thing..." 

She tried not to recall the embarrassment of him walking in on her dancing. She'd been double bolting her door ever since. "I have eclectic tastes." she told him as she changed lanes to overtake a truck. "And I like to keep people guessing." 

"Well, you're definitely doing that." he chuckled. 

She glanced at him for a second, but the way he was smirking at her was too much to deal with. She put her eyes firmly on the road and resolved not to remove them. "You can change it, if you want. I bet you're more a LS Rock Radio kind of guy." 

"Am I that obvious?" he chuckled. 

"Kinda." she teased with an unavoidable sassy smile. There was something about being with him, in such close quarters that completely overrode her need to be guarded. She seemed to feed off his energy, connecting to parts of herself that she'd kept locked up tight. 

Michael felt himself filling with a light he hadn't felt before. Something fun and joyous; something that made him feel much younger than his years. "I guess I'm just not as mysterious as you." 

"I'm not mysterious." she dismissed, zipping between a couple of slow moving cars. 

"Only when compared to crop circles, or the enigma code." he joked in almost sing-song. She laughed heartily for a moment before biting her lip to stop herself. 

He had so many questions he wanted to ask her. He wanted to know as much about her as he guessed she knew about him. How did she end up in Los Santos? What the hell made her want to become a shrink? How did she managed to be two completely different people so flawlessly? What was it he could sense she was hiding? Why did he feel like she had the same shadows inside her, as he held within himself? How the hell did being around her make him feel so damn good, even when she was making him think of the things that hurt so bad? 

It was hardly the time or the place to ask her the deep, probing, questions he had for her, but he didn't want her to clam up. He liked the way it made him feel to chat with her casually, no therapy agenda and no dredging up of deep emotions. Just her, unguarded and free. Making him feel alive in places he thought had withered and died long ago. 

"This is the Rocoto, right?" he asked, referring to the car, stuck for something else to say.

"Yeah." she nodded. 

"How's it run?"

"I've driven better," she told. "...but I like it. Handles well. Speeds pretty good, but I wouldn't choose it for a getawa-" she stopped short. 

Michael gave a uncertain laugh, unsure if she was making a joke about his career path or unknowingly revealing more about herself.

"You like cars?" he frowned in question, thinking it was unusual to get more than a monosyllabic response from a woman about the car she drove. Hoping to try and draw out a little more information about her, and just what hid behind her pretty blue eyes. 

She took a beat to respond, shuffling through her options. "Yeah. I used to, I guess." she returned ever polite but oddly guarded, as she pulled to a smooth stop at the highway intersection.

Michael knew her response was loaded, and he wanted to ask what she was almost getting at, but he didn't know how. He wasn't trained to unlock people's problems the way she was. "I got the Tailgater." he offered. "That handles real nice."

"Really? I pictured you being more of a Pegassi guy." she teased, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. 

Michael chuckled, liking her nerve. "Nah. I ain't gotta compensate for nothin'." 

"That's good to know." Cassidy laughed, a little nervously. Moving through the green light for the last leg of their journey together. 

Michael smirked to himself, pleased he'd put a dirty thought in her head. "I heard you can tell a lot about a woman by the car she drives." he pried a little more, curious to see what secrets of hers he could chase out of the darkness and into the light. 

"Well, this is a rental, so don't get carried away." she warned somewhat playfully. 

"A rental?" Michael quizzed with a frown, guessing that fact invalidated his analysis of her somehow. "Shit! That's gotta cost ya." 

She shrugged, subconsciously unwilling to reveal the real reason why she avoided tying herself to contracts as much as possible. "Buying's too much like commitment." she joked. 

Michael gave a soft snigger of laughter. "A shrink with commitment issues?" 

She chuckled softly. "Dontchya go tryin' to psychoanalyze me." being distracted by driving made it difficult to restrain her natural accent, and the Liberty City twang he loved to hear escaped. 

He smiled inside, enjoying how natural she was being with him. How seemingly playful and free, hinting at who she was underneath the surface. "It's too late for that." he mumbled, and just like that her business mind was back in control. 

Her guard suddenly dropped back firmly into place as if he'd tripped an alarm inside her, one that said he was getting too close, too invested in her as a person, not a therapist. 

She didn't know what to say, so she gave a soft, forced laugh and focused back on the road. She knew it was foolish not to address his behaviour head on, as he knew she'd heard every word, but she couldn't allow herself to confront him, not there, not then. Maybe not ever. Truth was, she kind of liked knowing someone was thinking about her, even if it was likely to cause her more trouble than she could handle. 

A comfortable but edged silence fell on the car as she switched lanes and took the exit for the pier parking lot, and they didn't speak again, as the car slowed into the side roads that lead to his destination. Feeling an odd sense of disappointment, she pulled up just before the steps leading to the vibrant pier and idled the car. Giving them both a moment to search for an acceptable way to end the silence and reluctantly part ways. 

"Thanks for the ride." he offered first. 

"You're welcome." she gave back, instantly. His hand instinctively went for the door handle, but he hesitated. Wanting to say something more to her. He had so much he wanted to unload, so much he needed to ask, but he was pushing his luck and as cocky as he was, he knew he was on somewhat thin ice. 

"Thanks for lettin' me vent earlier too." he offered, wishing for a way to extend their time together. Just one chance to have her open herself up to him, and address the intense feeling inside him that said he'd find so much of himself within her. 

She nodded. "No problem. You should probably stop turning up at my house though." she gave gently, not wanting to punish him for needing her help. "I'm paying the rent on my office for a reason." 

Michael almost sighed, and forced a faint but understanding smile onto his face. "I know...I'm sorry to impose on you like that." 

"It's okay. I don't mind...I just..." she stopped herself, not sure if she did mind. She was too confused to know what she felt, and too frustrated by her professional limitations to properly understand anything going on inside her. 

"Rules and regs, huh?" he suggested. 

"Something like that." she whispered. 

Silence came again, each looking for their next move; the moment was awkward and yet somehow not so. It seemed to edged them both towards taking a chance that they both wanted to jump on, but it was unstable, too risky. That was not the right moment to throw caution to the wind and give in to what they both felt. 

"Well, I'll see you on Thursday then?" he suggested. 

"Yeah. Sure. Eleven am, still good for you?" 

"Perfect." 

They glanced at each other awkwardly, both wishing they could say a thousand more things than they were allowed to. Every part of him wanted to yell at her to forget professionalism and just let herself go with whatever she felt inside for him, but he wasn't sure enough that she felt anything for him at all. 

He'd spent so long not considering other people's feelings that he was unsure where to begin with truly reading some properly, especially someone like her. A doubt in his mind said it was possible that he could have been letting his wishful thinking get the better of him, getting her all wrong. That doubt was enough to hold him back, to stop him taking the leap that would risk everything he had, but he wasn't certain how much longer he could deny himself. Every second it got harder and harder to listening to his head and not his heart, or other parts of his body, but he needed to know it was a sure thing before he cut the last thread of self control he had left. 

"Drive safe." he said and with that he threw the door open and got out. 

Suddenly alone in the car, Cassidy felt emotion swell in her chest and sting her eyes. She didn't know what the hell was going on between them, but she had to get her head clear and stop herself crashing into him and exploding into a ball of flames. 

He was bad news; everything she'd run away from, and worse. She couldn't allow herself to fall for someone like him, a criminal, a mass murder, a patient, _a married man!_ It was wrong and things had to change, and fast, before she was the one needing therapy. 

Michael stood glued to the spot, watching as she turned the car around in a tight controlled circle, and disappear off into the streets of Vespucci. His eyes came over heavy with regret for missed opportunities but his body was strangely full of hope. There was something there with her, something deeper than he'd ever experienced before, something that had evolved to become more than the initial physical attraction that he'd been so familiar with in his life. It felt so strange for him to want to connect with someone so badly, but every part of him wanted to explore the magic he felt growing between them. He needed to quit beating around the bush and let the spark between them burn everything down. Yet still he knew their relationship was fragile, and he couldn't risk crushing it in his hand before it was strong enough to survive. 

His eyes dropped forlornly, unsure about how to make his move, or how he'd manage to get his head clear all the promise he felt with her, enough to go back to the grey life he hated. Looking at the asphalt, as if searching for something, he suddenly noticed he was still holding the bottle of water she'd given him.

It was almost empty, and his instinct was to toss it in the trash can a few feet away, but he couldn't. It felt like some weird kind of trophy, a physical reminder of the fact that behind the professionalism she was a real person. One that made him laugh, and feel good. Someone who seemed to understand what was going on in his twisted mess of a mind. A real person who seemed to genuine care about him and his wellbeing, which felt like a novelty in his world. 

His thumb began to pick at the label as he looked longingly at the road, somehow hoping she would reappear and give him the chance he craved. He'd been frozen inside for so long, repressing so much of himself in order to just survive. With her in his life he was steadily being reminded of the dormant parts of himself, the ones that longed for the connection he'd always dreamed of feeling were reawakening, telling him that maybe there was still hope for a guy like him after all. 

The fire had caught between them, and despite all his logical concerns and fears over risking what little he had on her, he felt that it was a risk worth taking. He'd stumbled upon something that he wanted more than anything he'd ever known before, something he needed more than all the zero's in the bank. And just like a heist, he would have to plan his moves carefully, and work cleverly to get what he wanted. He didn't need anyone to tell him it wasn't going to be easy, but for the first time in a long time, he was ready to put in the hard work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well done for making it this far, I know that was a marathon read haha! As always, I'd love to know what you think and if you're ready for the drama that's coming in the next chapter! Thanks for reading!


	18. Advice Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope 2016 is off to an awesome start for you all!  
> Once again, huge thanks for your amazing reviews and shows of love for this fic and the Christmas flash-forward, it means so much to me to know that you guys are enjoying what I'm doing. 
> 
> Sorry I've kept you all waiting (again) but I'm so finicky over my writing (and still somehow always miss a typeo or six haha!) that it takes a while for me to be completely happy with releasing a chapter into the wild. But rest assured the boat is starting to turn in this chapter, and things are going to start happening between Michael and Cassidy thick and fast now. Once again, I've split one long chapter into two slightly easier to manage parts and I hope you enjoy both of them. As always I'd love to know what you think, your comments give me life. Thanks for reading, you guys are the best!

"He's clearly too comfortable with you." a female voice on the other end of the phone told into Cassidy's ear. "Seems to me that the doctor-patient relationship is blown." 

"I've tried to re-establish it!" Cassidy defended hopelessly, looking around her office as if to search for the reason why she'd finally made the telephone call that she'd agonized over for days. She knew she'd just wind up being chastised for letting herself make so many mistakes, and regret for picking up the phone was growing rapidly. "But every time I think he gets it...something happens. He shows up at my place and catches me off guard, and..." she paused for a beat, almost sighing. "I struggle to be the same person at home as I am at work." 

"I know that." the older sounding woman replied. "And he knows it too. That's why he keeps showing up. Seeing you at home is feeding is ego by letting him forget you're the person he pays to listen to his problems. Seeing you off duty humanizes you, stops you just being his therapist and he feeds off that." 

Cassidy fidgeted in her leather office chair, feeling almost like she was an unruly teenager again, being told off by her mother for staying out for days at a time. She knew her friend and former mentor, Maria, wouldn't sugar-coat anything. She was an honest woman, sometimes brutally, and that was exactly what Cassidy needed - as a matter of urgency. Some hard truths and a large dose of reality to pull her back into line and disarm the bomb she felt ticking inside her. 

Ever since Michael's appearance on the beach outside her home, she had been completely confused about how to move forward with his therapy. It felt like something had changed between them sitting on the sand, and she couldn't quite put her finger on what but just how badly it unnerved her was clear. 

Of course, because she couldn't instantly understand herself or the situation she'd found herself in, she had searched for ways to bury her head. Trying to focus on anything she could, in the hopes of avoiding thoughts of him and the mess they were in. She had searched for little breathing space from the pressure she felt on her back, knowing once she cleared her head of all the chaotic thoughts, they would steadily start to reorder themselves, to eventually give her some perspective and a plan of action. A way to understand what she was feeling for him, and more importantly a way to smartly and calmly resolve the problems herself, but the old formula for figuring out her problems seemed to have failed her. 

It had been a little under three days since their meeting on the beach and her mind wouldn't quit replaying everything that had happened. She couldn't seem to find a moment of escape for long enough to understand what had happened on a professional, or a personal level. She kept mentally rewinding the moments she'd shared with him on the sand, and in the car, questioning what it all meant and what the odd feeling in her stomach was all about. Searching for a way to navigate around the crumbled walls of her professionalism, but the more she thought about their time together, the deeper her unethical feelings grew. 

Thursday morning came around way too fast, and the insight and clarity she hoped to gain before seeing him again had yet to materialize. As she sat in her office that morning, waiting for eleven o'clock to roll around, but she still had no answers or plan of action, just a growing pit in her stomach that warned something crazy was going to happen between them.

Leaving him by the pier under overcast skies had caused so many feelings to rage inside her. Anger at herself for letting him affect her so much; frustration for being unable to chase what she felt held so much promise. Sorrow that she was hurting herself -and him- by letting things evolve in the wrong direction. Hope, which blossomed from the comfort and connection she felt with him. Guilt and concern for what she'd unknowingly cultivated between them and how their potential feelings could affect the people in his life. The ones who she knew so much about but had never met; strangers whose lives she could ruin if she let herself properly acknowledge the direction in which her heart was pulling her. 

It wasn't who she was to get so horribly caught up in her emotions. She thought she'd locked down the parts of herself that could still feel the kind of things that Michael had stirred up. She had hoped that all she'd been through in the past had burned away every remaining ounce of hope for happiness she had in her, but just being around him seemed to clear away the salted ground and slowly things she thought were long dead, and unable to grow, were coming back to life. 

It was a dangerous game, and she knew it. She couldn't afford to feel so connected to anything, or anyone, every time she ever had it caused her nothing but pain. She couldn't let herself need anyone but herself, and she certainly couldn't risk the stability she had built on allowing someone like Michael De Santa into her life. Even if every moment spent alone with him made her feel more alive inside than she'd felt in years. 

The voice in her head seemed to grow louder every day, trying to convince her that he was worth risking it all on. Every time he tapped directly into her soul, with his relatable confessions, or one of his knowing looks, she felt the pull to him and the promise he offered grow stronger with every thought, and it made her horribly afraid. 

She was driving herself crazy with it all; even when she thought she wasn't thinking about the situation, she was. There seemed to be no escaping the weirdest myriad of emotions that cycled through her over and over again. She was tired of not knowing how to handle herself or the situation she'd wound up in. The only course of action left was to try and share her burden with someone. Hoping that they'd be able to help her see straight, as she feared her ability to shoulder the weight of situation would break if she kept it to herself much longer. 

She understood the wise thing to do was to discussed her issues with her clinical supervisor who was based just a few blocks away from her office at the Harper Unit of Psychology just next door to Mount Zona hospital, but she felt that was too official. She didn't want the distain of her supervisor, who would mark her down as still "wet-behind-the-ears" since the ink was barely dry on her license to practice. She felt it would be a risk to have such struggles documented so early into her career, knowing it could potentially be a black mark against her name that wouldn't fade for years to come. 

Certain that the best thing to do was handle things herself, at least until things truly escaped her control. She dismissed the idea of reaching out to someone closer to home but still couldn't shake the feeling that she needed an outsiders to step in to pull her back from the edge, with the fresh point of view she'd been trying to find by herself. 

So, feeling like she had few other options to find a professional perspective on the situation, a call to her former colleague and friend, Maria, was made. She'd been there for advice and support over the years since Cassidy had begun studying for her career, and Maria was perhaps the only person in the world that she had left to turn to in times of crisis. 

The older woman, who was based in New Austin, had years of experience under her belt and her own successful practice to her name. She also had a wonderful knack of straightening Cassidy out when she needed it. Although Cassidy herself feared it was too late for even someone as wise and firm as Maria to steer her away from crashing hopelessly into Michael friggin' De Santa! 

"Have you charged him for the times he's come to your house?"

"No, not yet." Cassidy confirmed, hesitating for a moment, unsure if she should say what she was about to, but it was a fact that had to be shared. "He hasn't paid me at all yet, actually." she admitted, talking quickly to try and soften the blow. "I tried to charge his insurance a couple of weeks back but it ran out months ago. I keep meaning to mention it, but I forget and..." she trailed off, knowing she was unwittingly confirming every worry in Maria's head. "...And I....I" she tripped over her words, as the need to protect herself pulled her one way and the need to be honest pulled her another. She realized it was no good hiding the facts now, not when she needed help so badly. 

Maria's silence on the other end of the phone was deafening. Cassidy could picture the look on her face and it made her feel awful. The urge to say something else, just to fill the silence, came over her and she spoke again. "...I don't know if I should charge him for-" 

Maria cut in, resolutely. "Charge him! _For everything!_ Every time you saw him, make it cost him money." her tone was so adamant it was bordering on anger. "You have to, Cassie. It might be the hint he needs to accept you're his therapist, and nothing more." 

Cassidy sighed silently, the thought of doing that made her stomach knot up. She'd been trying so hard to express boundaries and remain professional during his session, yet she wasn't convinced that was truly what she wanted to do. 

She'd become uncertain if he actually needed a qualified therapist or just a friend, a shoulder to cry on, and that had undoubtedly effected the way she handled him. Whenever he caught her at her house, it was so much harder to be professionally detached and not become the friend she felt he needed. Worst of all, she knew she felt that way because deep down inside she didn't want to detach herself. She didn't want to just be his therapist, but that was what she was. It was what she'd always be, and she _had to_ detach from him before it was too late. If only to save herself from another burden of guilt to carry around on her weary shoulders. 

"Yeah. You're right." Cassidy agreed half-heartedly. It seemed silly to call someone to have them tell her that which she already knew, but hearing another voice say it -other than the logical one in her head- seemed to make then little bit of difference she'd needed to move forward. 

"Did you find someone to take on him and his wife?" Maria asked, recalling the details from the recap of the situation Cassidy had given her earlier in the phone call. 

Cassidy thought on that for a moment. She'd done what she'd promised him she would, and located another therapist in the city who would treat couples, but she'd been battling with herself over the idea of helping him save his marriage. "Yeah. I've got the num-" Maria cut in again. 

"Give it to him. First thing today. Let him know that you haven't forgotten he has a wife, even if he has." Maria's tone was bordering on bossy, but Cassidy knew it was just her friends way of trying to help protect her. "And you should push into some topics that only a therapist would. Making him a little uncomfortable wouldn't hurt. Something that'll make him realize you're not thinking about him in the way he's thinking about you."

"Such as?" Cassidy asked, her eyebrows raising quizzically. 

The line was silent for a moment as Maria thought. "He's almost fifty, right?"

"Forty-eight." Cassidy replied, cringing at herself for clarifying in such a way. She could visualize Maria's disapproving face so easily; they both knew the words she'd spoken were a warning sign of a deeper interest in him. 

Speaking the facts aloud reminded her that the object of her attentions had been in prison twice before she'd even learned how to talk properly, let alone say the word "criminal". She was hyper aware that those realities should have sent her running for the hills, but instead she found it did nothing but appeal to her inner darkness, which only served to scare her further. 

There was an awkward few moments of silence, and Cassidy began picking at the edge of her desk anxiously. Trying hard not to let her mind start twisting itself up in knots all over again, but the niggling in her stomach grew ever more intense. Fuelled by worrying thoughts of their age gap, his dark past, his career, his wife of so many years, his kids. How she'd hurt so many people, including herself, if she allowed herself to fall into him. 

Everything that was a warning sign to turn and run, was demanding she pay it attention and do something proactive about pushing him away, but she dug in her heels and kept on turning a deaf ear to the alarm bells. Refusing to allow herself to make a run for the exit for fearing the loss of what she'd have to leave behind to turn to ash. 

"Maybe you should bring up his sexual issues..." Maria suggested, breaking the silence but making Cassidy wish she hadn't. 

"Sexual issues?" she winced as how pathetic she sounded. She'd spent enough time reading Michael's notes to know he had plenty of problems she could tap into in that department. The truth was she'd been meaning to broach the subject of his sexual proclivities and insecurities with him for a while, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to. 

"By the sounds of it he can't keep it in his pants, but he's in the right age bracket to suffer with erectile dysfunction, premature ejaculation, all that kind of thing." Maria suggested, no note of humour in her voice. "Give him the impression that you associate those issues with him and that'll put a dampener on any guys big ideas." 

Cassidy chuckled, although it was inappropriate. "But won't doing that mess him up even more?" she argued. "He stills needs to trust me as his therapist, and I don't want to make him _that_ uncomfortable."

"Well, you need to!" Maria scolded. "It's past the point of looking out for his best interests now, Cassidy. He's broken the boundaries and I don't believe you can salvage a professional relationship with hi-" Cassidy cut in. 

"I don't think we're at that point yet." she defended, feeling a flame of defiance ignite within her. 

"Really?" Maria asked, allowing a few beats of silence to settle although not expecting an answer from the other end of the line, once came. 

"Isn't making him uncomfortable like that as unethical as what I've already done?" she asked feeling troubled by the suggested course of action, and lacking confidence in her ability to apply it. 

Maria sighed. "He's not like other clients, Cassie. The usual rules don't seem to apply here. If you keep letting this game of cat and mouse go on, it's going to destroy you and potentially your career too." she warned, and her words hit home. "If you're really hell-bent on keeping him on your books, you need to stamp out any sexual chemistry you have with him. Bringing it back to basics and posing some awkward personal questions about his sexual behaviours should cool his jets and make him reconsider what he thinks about you, and what _you_ might think about _him_. Let him know you don't see him as some flawless charmer, who's seducing you. Remind him that you're a professional, who knows his darkest bedroom secrets as well as his criminal ones. He won't want a woman he's interested in sexually being aware of his issues in that area. _Then_ if he can stop seeing you as a potential sex partner, maybe you can salvage something beneficial from this mess. Just don't blush or let him turn it into an excuse to flirt with you." 

Cassidy nodded to her empty office. She felt as if it was a questionable cure for the situation she was in, but she was out of other options. A short sharp shock to make him aware that she wasn't thinking about him in some kind of magically intimate way, might be enough to get them back on track - or knock them off completely. 

She didn't want to lose him, or push him away too far, but something had to be done. She couldn't take much more of the worry about where his head was at when it came to her. Fretting over what he could be planning, or what might happen the next time they saw one another. Especially if she slipped and lost control of herself. 

She was even more afraid of where her own mind lay with thoughts of him. The images and sensations she felt when she let herself relax and indulge in thoughts of him, considering the possibilities between them too, it was all a dangerous game. Maybe trying to tie some generalized ugly sexual truths to him would help cool her off too. 

As she sat there, phone against her ear and eyes unfocused, her mind began to wander again, thinking of how things could be if she gave up the fight. Wondering for the thousandth time what it would be like to throw their professional relationship away and let the chemicals between them take over. 

Considering if his kiss would be tender, or harsh. If his hands would feel rough running up her thighs, or would they be as smooth as his charms. How much would the rush of warmth she felt when he looked at her intensify when paired with his touch. How would his thick black hair feel running through her fingers. What would his lips feel like on hers, and how would his back muscles feel beneath her fingernails. What would it be like to-

" _Cassidy?_ " Maria's voice called, yanking her out of her thoughts. 

She flinched, the bubble that had formed around her head popping unceremoniously. "Yeah, no. I hear you. You're right. I get it." she scrambled in reply, shaking off the haze of fantasy. 

It was glaringly obvious that something needed to be done to poison the burgeoning desires between them. The career and reputation that she was only just beginning to build was at risk if she didn't stop herself slipping down the rabbit hole, and she did not want to be responsible for causing the reconciliation of his marriage to fail. She lived under enough guilt from her past mistakes, adding to it with being a home-wrecker was not an option. 

She also knew if she continued to stand by and allow him to waltz in and out of her life whenever he pleased, he'd not only damage her professionally but he was a serious risk to her own mental health. The way he got into her head was disturbing, rendering her self-preservation and defence mechanisms all but useless with his undeniable charisma. She'd prided herself on being independent -her own saviour- but he seemed to wear a suit of shining armour so well. Filling her with the feeling that she could unload her burdens on him and find not only pleasure, but also the security she secretly craved in his arms. 

_No!_ She couldn't allow that. He was not the type of man she needed as he certainly wasn't someone who could enhance her life. He could surely only make things worse; he was a married man for Christ sake. A father, a criminal, and a mass murderer. If she had any sense she'd pull the plug on everything between them, professional and otherwise, but even with the warnings of the firestorm that was coming, she couldn't bring herself to run away. There was a connection between the two of them, something deeper than both of them could understand and it was going to take something huge to make it snap. 

"And you, lady..." Maria added. "You're not innocent in this. I think you've lead him on a bit." Cassidy swallowed hard, bracing for a telling off. "You know you're showing all the signs too, right?." 

Cassidy didn't need to be told how badly she'd behaved or that she was exhibiting the perfect pattern of behaviour that spelled the dreaded _'erotic counter-transference'_. "I'm not. I'm jus-" Maria cut her off. 

"Offering him a ride home? Thinking about him off the clock? Talking in his sessions too much, projecting your issues onto him? Thinking that his experiences mirror yours? Accepting gifts from him?" Maria paused for a moment to let her words sink in. "You know those are all signs." 

Cassidy sighed silently. "I know they're signs but it's not counter-transference." she defended hopelessly, refusing to admit what she'd allowed herself to become. How many mistakes she'd made with the man who'd consistently and relentlessly unravelled her. "I just..." she stopped short, having no excuse to offer. 

Maria sighed audibly on the other end of the phone. "It's just that you don't have any breathing space from him, or anything else to occupy your time."

"Yeah I do." Cassidy defended. "I go to a bunch of classes and stuff."

"That's not what I mean, Cassie." Maria sighed. "You should get yourself a date!"

Cassidy shook her head to the empty office. "No. I don't-...." she paused for a beat, focusing her words. "That's not what I need right now." 

"You need to meet more people." 

"I meet people." she proclaimed, sounding almost desperate. "I found a new Spanish class to go to, I go for coffee with the people there, sometimes." 

"That's good, but it's not enough. I don't want to hear _"sometimes"_ , you need to connect with other people _regularly_. You need some distraction away from work and it would be good for you to get out of your comfort zone and see what happens."

Cassidy sighed quietly. "You know how hard that is for me to do....to let people in"

"And that's exactly why you need to do it. You're safe out there, sweetheart." she assured. "It's high time you started to try and trust people again." 

The young woman felt emotions stir within her, eyes stinging with the threat of releasing years worth of buried emotions. "I'm not sure I remember how."

"It's like riding a bike." Maria joked. "Get out there, find some real human interaction, focus on something that's not connected to your damn office. I know some folks out there, I could get you a date with someone if I made a few ca-"

Cassidy cut in instantly, she didn't want any of what her friend was offering. "No I don't wan-" 

"Yes, you do!" Maria insisted. "You and I both know you've given him signs, because he seems to be offering you something you want. You need to work on distancing yourself from him and whatever foolish hope you have of something working out between you..." Maria warned and Cassidy's heart hurt. "You need to find someone else to focus on, and try to build a relationship with a decent human being. With someone who's not a criminal and more importantly, someone who isn't married." The words of her mentor stung Cassidy worse than she'd realized they could, and her stomach dropped hard on the floor. "Put your feelings for De Santa onto someone you can have the hope of a future with."

"I don't have any fee-" Maria cut her off again. 

"You can't fool me, Cassidy. Don't lie to yourself and quit acting like you're trying to convince me you don't feel for him, when you're really just trying to convince yourself of it."

Cassidy sighed heavily again, defeated by the way the conversation had turned on her. "Yeah..." she mumbled, feeling low. Hurting from the harsh reminder that Michael could never be hers in the way she'd subconsciously been hoping so hard for. 

"This kind of thing happens to everyone, at least once in their career. At least you're getting it out of the way early. Don't beat yourself up over it, sweetpea." Maria assured. "You just need to nip it in the bud now, before it goes any further." 

Cassidy nodded to the empty room again, knowing deep down the advice was the best course of action. "Yeah. You're right."

"If you really don't think it's time to call him out directly, or you don't feel strong enough to do it yet, do what I suggested. Don't be confrontational with him in anyway, he'll feed off that. And don't make it too obvious what you're trying to do, he's manipulative and he'll turn it back on you. Just raise a few issues that are going to make him sweat, for the _wrong_ reasons! That should help him get the memo that things aren't anything more than just professional between you."

"Okay." Cassidy agreed on an outward breath, unsure if she was sighing in relief or anxiety. 

"But if that doesn't work..." Maria paused for a moment and Cassidy felt her shoulders tense. "...then you're going to have to have _the talk_ with him. If he doesn't back up, there'll be no other choice but to hit it head on, and explain that what he's feeling is just a by-product of progress and that there is nothing more but a professional relationship between you. Promise me you'll do that?" 

"Yeah, I know. And I will. I swear." Cassidy confirmed, but her eyes lowered with hidden uncertainty. 

"Good. Stay strong and keep me posted on any developments." Maria insisted. "And take care of you. Call me if you need me." 

Cassidy felt a smile pull at her lips, it felt good to have someone show they cared for her, even if the burden she wanted to off load felt no lighter. "I will. You too. Thanks for the advice, I'll call you soon." with that she ended the call before things could become painful again. 

She promised herself that she'd call Maria again in a few days, to let her know how her attempt to correct her mistakes was going, but in the silence of the office she began to doubt her abilities again. She wasn't sure if she had the strength to confront him in such a potentially unorthodox way, but something had to be done before her head sank below the surface and she started to drown. 

Looking up at the clock, she realized there were only a few minutes to spare before he would be sitting in her office once again, and her stomach felt unsettled. She knew putting him on the spot with awkward questions held the potential for big trouble; but she'd have to be strong and weather the storm she'd create. 

She couldn't deny Maria was right; there was little hope of them ever salvaging something professional but she wasn't ready to give up hope yet. If the ship could be put back on course by making him -and herself- uncomfortable with talk of the things Friedlander had mentioned about Michael's sexual behaviours, then she'd have to try it. She didn't want to lose him as a client, even if she hadn't been paid yet and despite the fact she felt what he needed was a friend, not a therapist. 

She been meaning to address the difficult topics of sex with him since day one, but things rarely ever went to plan with him. Maria was right in suggestion that the things she needed to ask were not the sort of things a man wanted to hear from the woman he was lusting after. It would likely be enough to dampen his spirits and make him think twice before considering something intimate occurring between the two of them. A man like him wouldn't enjoy knowing that the woman he wanted knew of his sexual insecurities, and if she was smart she could talk of his infidelity and how unimpressed she was by his inability to remain faithful to his wife. However, Cassidy had a strong feeling there wasn't much she could do or say to him that would take him off the collision course they were on. 

She reluctantly got herself up from behind her desk and wandered into the bathroom. Checking herself out in the mirror quickly. Searching inside herself for a shred of confidence to take him on, as she made sure her light makeup was still in place, and check that the neckline of her black blouse was buttoned high enough, to protect her from his prying eyes from enjoying her ample cleavage. 

She was aware that there was absolutely no point in dressing so prudishly now, not since he'd seen her in nothing but a bikini only days earlier, but somehow covering up made her feel like she had a tiny amount of power in the situation. A confidence that might be enough to rebuild walls between them; a familiar shield which would help her push through the defence he put up in an attempt to disarm her - again. 

She had to be firm with him. Keep the defence she'd worked so hard to build held up against him and his damn charms. If he fought too hard, or she couldn't manage it, she'd have to let him know that whatever he felt there was between them was only based on the way she handled him professionally, as his therapist, and nothing more. That he'd come to find her appealing only because she was a sympathetic character that had been missing from his life. 

She didn't want to have to blurt out a harsh diagnosis of erotic transference for him, but it was a bullet she reserved the right to fire at some point. Ready to hit him with some of the realities of therapy if he pushed her too far or didn't bend to her will. Although deep down she doubted that a textbook diagnosis really offered the true explanation for his behaviour or the connection that she knew had been made between them. She felt both sympathy and empathy for all her clients, she related to the things they told her and she felt for their suffering too, but she hadn't experienced anything close to what she had with Michael with the others who sat on her couch. Something inside her said, very loudly, that their bond was rooted in something far deeper than what was written in psychology textbooks. 

She tried to deny it, but the feeling ran to deep that said whatever had grown between them wasn't feeding off her their therapeutic connection. However, the mere idea of not being able to explain what was happening between them with what she'd learned in college scared the life out of her, and did a good job of knocking what little confidence she had left to handle him with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget, there's another chapter waiting....


	19. Red Flags and Long Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part of a double update, if you missed chapter eighteen, please go back! :o)

  
_"I can find a reason that we should quit,_  
I can find a reason to do it,  
I can find excuses for all my shit,  
She tells me just to work right through it. 

_She's pretty and I like her but she's too well,_  
Cuz I need red flags and long nights and she can tell.  
It's not that it's my fault it's just my style,  
Beginning with a look and then a smile. 

_You can occupy my every sigh,_  
You can rent a space inside my mind,  
At least untill the price becomes too high.   
**\-- Red Flags and Long Nights by She Wants Revenge**   


While Cassidy was up in her office fretting about Michael's imminent arrive, he was down at street level, having parked up his car in the lot besides the Alta street building she was in, he quickly headed over to where he knew she'd be waiting for him. High up above the streets in her little blank office, hiding herself away behind professionalism and blocking him from seeing the real woman he was cultivating such strong feelings for.

Something had happened down on the shore out the back of her house, something that amplified and expanded on everything he'd felt for her since the moment they'd met. The way she was so candid and open with him had clicked the final pieces together inside him, proving to him one thing and one thing only - he need her. _Badly._ And for more than just the physical. 

The initial lust he'd felt for her had given way and joined hands with other emotions and desires that were as exciting as they were confusing and almost overwhelming. Bringing him around to believing that it was actually possible for him to find something more than lust with a member of the opposite sex. 

While he'd always had a curiosity about her, it had initially been about understanding why she'd seemed to relate to him more so than connecting to her himself. However, it was now becoming increasingly more and more apparent that he wanted to get to know her, for who she was. Learn about her past and her present in an attempt to understand her in the same way she did him. He wanted to know what made her tick, listen to her talk about life, her oddly appealing cynicism and outlook on the world that opened his eyes to so much. 

He couldn't get her out of his thoughts for less than a minute at a time; replaying every moment they'd shared together on the sand and in the days leading up. Considering if what he was feeling was part of the experience he'd longed for his whole life. He'd been infatuated with women before of course, but it was never a feeling that lasted long, and it certainly never evolved into anything close to what he had come to feel for Cassidy. 

He realized it was ridiculous for a grown man -a _married_ man- to be so tied up in knots over a woman, especially one who was so much younger, smarter and seemingly out of his reach, but the harder he'd tried to resist sinking into thoughts of her, the more he was dragged down into a hungry longing. A deep need to be around her, and share more moments together like they had on the sand a few days earlier. 

Since watching her drive away into the streets of Vespucci, his head had been clouded by her in so many ways. Picturing her how he'd already seen her physically - at the beach, sitting in her office, painting her walls, dancing, it all plagued his mind. As did newer thoughts and fantasies. His brain conjuring up and abundance of possibilities for what could be between them. Shamelessly imagining what it could be like to have her in his life as more than she currently was. How great it would be to feel the way she made him feel _all_ the time. 

It was such a beautiful, but maddening distraction to lose himself in thoughts of her. Imagining her in the ways that he feared he'd never be able to see actualised. Shamelessly picturing her laying besides him in bed, swimming with her in the ocean, walking with her hand in hand along the city streets or the beach. Taking her out to dinner, or to a movie. The things he still quietly longed to do with someone, despite his wife losing interest in his company a long time ago. 

Just as he'd experienced when it came to a score that had captured his attention, his mind wouldn't quit with promising him so much. Making him think of all the ways he could get what he wanted and just how great life would be once he got it. 

The good thoughts and dreams only seemed to pause when the scraps of his conscience came together and reminded him of the problems he faced, the burden of his family, and his commitment to them. His promise to stop searching for something new - _something better_ \- and make good on what he already had. 

The tearing he felt pulling him in two different directions was becoming almost painful and beyond frustrating. On one side he saw something new and exciting, with the potential to be everything he'd ever wanted. While on the other he saw the old and familiar; a comfortable life. One that was by no means perfect, but was safe and manageable. Unfulfilling, but risk free. 

He would have been an idiot to deny how much easier it would be to put up and shut up, forget the possibilities of what might be with Cassidy and settle for what he already had. Yet he knew whichever way he went, he stood to lose something. 

He could destroy the fragile connection he still had to his family by taking a chance on something new, or choose to throw the shot he had at happiness away, stay exactly where he was and spend the rest of his miserable life wondering about what might have been with Cassidy. 

He'd already done more than enough regretting in his life, and he didn't want her to be a another memory that his mind went to on lonely nights. Something inside told him that she had to be more than that; he couldn't stand to find himself sitting by his pool dreaming of the life he missed out on with her. Yet he knew he seemed to be doomed to a live where he chased, but never caught up to, real, unwavering happiness. That fact made him fear taking a leap, knowing from past experience that the grass wasn't always greener on the other side. 

He'd considered that his new dream could end up as a nightmare, just as all the rest before had, and he found himself wondered if he was fooling himself to think he'd find happiness with her. After all his attraction to her had started off in the same way as so many had in the past. That familiar 'hearts-in-eyes' feeling; a lust for an attractive young woman. His downstairs brain doing the work to lead him into a string of passionate situations, all of which had left him more empty that fulfilled. Just like the one that had begun twenty-some years earlier. Blind lust that had quickly become complicated by the responsibilities an unplanned pregnancy bought with it. 

Yet he understood that although his feelings for Cassidy had blossomed on the same ground as those for his wife -and all the other women he'd been drawn to sexually- things had been complicated somewhere along the way. The original lust he felt had intensified and expanded so greatly, that it had now merged with a deep seated interest in more than just her cup size and the space between her thighs. 

As frequent as sexual thoughts of her were, they were only matched by desires to know who she was beneath the appealing surface. To get inside her head and understand where the roots of their connection lay. It was new and terribly unnerving to want to wrap himself up in another human in such ways, having spent so much time being self sufficient, alone and adrift. Yet the urges just to show her some affection and tenderness, and the craving to have her return the same, seemed to slowly be overriding the original desires to strip her naked and let all his passionate lust get the better of him. 

He wasn't sure how or why it had happened, but it seemed at some point he'd developed an odd kind of respect for her, something that he'd never experienced before. He still wanted to fuck her brains out, almost more than he could bare at times, but there was so much more surrounding that urge now. Things that couldn't be equated to or paired up with lust or fantasy. There was something real and deep growing between them, and it gave him as much confusion as it did hope.

He couldn't understand where things had changed for him, or why. He didn't know what the trigger was to switch things over from just another lusty desire to the point where that hollow lust began transforming into something more meaningful. Even though he couldn't pinpoint the catalyst for the evolution within him, there was no denying it had happened. Lust seemed to be rapidly becoming something closer to love, and he had to do something about it before it drove him crazier than he already was. 

After three days of stewing over his choices, he'd resolved on the drive over that very morning to finally say something to her about how he felt. To throw caution to the wind and lay his cards out on the table and see what hand she was holding. Forget the risks and all he stood to lose by taking a chance, and letting himself run free with the magic he felt developing between them. 

He couldn't bare another day wondering, wishing and hoping for something to happen naturally between them - to take the responsibility off his shoulders. He actually do something himself to learn if she felt the same way. Even if it backfired in his face, he had to try. He was tired of having so many regrets in his life, and having so many doubts about his actions, past and present. 

He was a man who usually knew exactly what he wanted, and how to get it. In business he usually stopped at nothing to claim what he wanted for his own, but his personal life had always been a mess. He couldn't control matters of the heart as easily as he could control the aspects of a heist, but he knew he had to take the tenacity and determination he had in his career and push it towards into his relationship with Cassidy. 

He needed to be sure that there could really be something between them that was worth risking every he had on. It was the time to put an end to the wondering and get some real answers. See if there was truly something special there first -something that wasn't just in his mind- then he'd figure out the rest. Once he was sure that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, he'd roll with the punches, and hope that the harder choices he would have to make about his future would fall into place. That was the easiest way, he felt sure. 

Thankfully he had a few minutes to spare before his appointment time, and as he reached the doors to her building he decided to hang back for a moment. He was so pent up -nervous almost- and thought it best to have a smoke and try to relax a little. Attempt to focus his muddled thoughts, click into the old Michael De Santa magic that kept everyone calm on the ride out to a score, get a better hold on himself before diving into deep water. A few moments to go over the plan of action in his mind would help, just the way they did before bursting through the doors of a bank. 

He had an objective and he knew the path to achieve it. Confrontation was the only way; he couldn't go on waiting for things to pan out without his direct intervention. He had to quit waiting for the easy option, man up and level with her. Keep calm, but have his feelings ready to tell her as soon as she asked him how things were going. Hit her with the truth he held inside and hope with all he had that she responded favourably. 

He'd learned during his sessions with Dr. Friedlander that he instinctively internalized a lot, that there were so many thoughts inside his head that he failed to voice, especially in a healthy way. Thoughts in certain areas that he so often struggled not to act on. He knew he'd done well to control himself around Cassidy for as long as he had. Hell, Pubehead might have even been proud, but the time for control had long past; now he had to take action. 

He would have been far more comfortable detaching himself of course. Turning his back on his families problems had made life much easier to bare, but he couldn't do that with Cassidy. Although he was sick of constantly thinking about the situation, second guessing himself all the time, wondering if she might feel the same as he did, he didn't want to switch off from it like he usually would. Some strange part of him enjoyed the torture, it was a distraction, but it was growing old. He needed to confront her head and put an end to the wondering. Then simply hope like hell that it didn't backfire and cause him to lose the one thing in his life that for once seemed to promise a relationship that was deep, genuine, and seemingly effortless. 

With a heavy sigh he lit up a cigarette and lent back against one of the broad columns out front of the building, the influx of nicotine settling the jittery feeling within him a little. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so on edge -so helpless- and his eyes began to drift around searching for distraction. Maybe trying to find a reason not to go through with the plan he'd made, some divine intervention that would make him get back in the car, go home to his family and be the better man he promised he'd try to be. 

His eyes drifted to the right, where a convenient branch of Bean Machine was located. It was too early for the lunch rush, but there were already several people gathered outside, mostly suited, and either sitting at tables or standing around gossiping. 

To his disappointment, there seemed to be nothing unusual going on to take the focus of his attention away the anxiety inside him, but as he smoked with his overworked mind paused, he found his sharp ears naturally tuning into a nearby conversation.

His eyes scanned the area searching for the owner of the voice, and found a blonde haired, hipster looking, guy perched on the low wall opposite. Talking obnoxiously loud into his cellphone as he sucked down a takeout coffee. 

"Yeah....I'm on my way over now man, I just had to stop in to get something from my shrink..." Michael's ears signalled to his brain, confirming that he'd heard the first part of the conversation, mentioning a therapy session, and he stood up straight and alert. Hesitating in taking another drag of his cigarette as he focused over to the guy talking. "....oh yeah, she's fuckin' hot!...." the man smirked, and Michael felt his anger instantly spark out of nowhere. 

He stretched his neck in irritation, as if getting ready to throw down and fight, but he was aware there was no reason to think the stranger was talking about Cassidy. Hell, there could have been a dozen female therapists in the buildings nearby, but he didn't need proof, his gut instinct was good enough.

The young man, somewhere in his late twenties, much closer to Cassidy's age than Michael was himself. Probably a struggling actor or some sort of artsy-fartsy creative type, looked over at Michael and became visibly uncomfortable under his predatory stare. They made eye contact for a beat, but the caller pulled the man's attention away and he continued his conversation regardless of the warning eyes that watched him. 

"Oh ye-yeah, man....she's got a great rack too...and her legs, shit dude!" Michael could practically taste the smugness coming off the kid before him as well as he could taste the flavour of his cigarette. The words he heard and the look on the guys face unknowingly flashed a red rag to Michael, who angrily flicked his cigarette away and began stomping over to the man like a raging bull. "...And I think she's into me dud -" before the guy could finish, Michael called out to him. 

"Hey! Pal!" he barked, almost on top of the younger man. His hand flexed and ready to grab him by his shit-talking throat. 

The young man flinched, looking at Michael like the proverbial a deer in headlights. His mouth open and phone hand dropped to his side, visible frozen in fear. 

The sight of fear and panic before him seemed to suddenly throw a bucket of ice water over the angry flames inside, and Michael stopped dead in his tracks. His tense shoulders softening, making him take half a step back. 

_What the hell was he doing?_ Was he really just about to attack random guy for mentioning someone who may or may not have been his therapist too?

"W-what?" the cowering man stuttered in fear. Michael went to bark a threatening tirade but something forced him to pull it back in and lock it down, as the red mist over his eyes began to recede. Chased away by an oncoming flood of doubts that he had wilfully been ignoring for weeks. 

He shook his head, clearing his mind just enough to speak. "Nothin,' man. I'm sorry. Thought you were someone else." he said dismissing the younger man, with a wave of his hand, sending him quickly scurrying away. 

With a growl low in his chest, Michael cast his eyes downward and looked into himself. Angered by his own foolish kneejerk reaction, that only served to prove he could still be one person one minute and then someone totally different the next. 

He quickly tried to shut his thoughts back down; not wanting to analyse his behaviour but he knew well enough his long restrained jealous streak was pulling at its straps. He was so on edge about his future with Cassidy and the heightened stress levels and raw emotions he'd been experiencing recently had to be responsible for his outburst too. For weeks he'd been struggling with the urge to lash out at anyone who gave him the slightest provocation, and the blonde hipster perfectly fit the bill for someone to take the fall. 

However, a little voice in his head, that had found the energy to speak up in his anger, began to whisper things. Things he instantly recognized as facts he did not want to acknowledge. A pull inside him told that if he hesitated any longer on his plan of action, he was likely to hear a monumental chorus from the crowd of doubts that were gathering in the forefront of his mind. He had to get inside and set to work, before he found another reason to cause trouble, or worse - talk himself out of what he came there to do. 

He quickly ducked through the larger silver doors and marched into the building. Stalking over to the elevators and hitting the call button. Trying to ignore the voice in his head that was growing louder by the second, trying to overpower his determination with negativity. Nagging doubts that were seeding in his head and growing rapidly into a bundle of tangled roots that began to strangle his intention to confront her once and for all. 

The silence of the elevator ride gave him a chance to cool down the burning anger in his chest a little but his mind was racing with questions and uncertainties that inflated like a balloon. He tensed, as he tried not to focus on the misgivings he was suddenly having. God only knew he'd ignored them for long enough already, and he could surely carry on for a few more minutes, until he did what he had to do. 

The elevator pinged its arrival to her floor, and he blindly floated out of the doors, nodding to the pretty receptionist as he drifted over to the small waiting area outside Cassidy's office. Dumping himself down in the first chair he found and slumping back. Looking up to the ceiling as he tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair restlessly. 

He could feel the storm clouds of his moodiness rolling in rapidly. Making him grow impatient and frustrated as the beast inside him began circling around, kicking up dust that exposed so many concepts that he'd tried to ignore. Stirring his anxiety and trying to make him fret and doubt everything that was about to happen in her office, reminding him of everything that could go so horribly wrong. 

He was restless -fidgety- wanting to get things moving, but as he looked at the clock on the wall he saw there were still a few minutes until she'd open the door. There was too much time to waste. Time that he knew his mind would use to twist the thoughts in his head, and sure enough his head slowly began brimming fuller and fuller with more doubt as each second ticked by. Raising issues that he wished he'd considered a lot sooner than in the final moments before diving off the deep end with her. 

He'd been an idiot for not considering the possibilities of failure. Rule number one of plotting a heist was to establish the risks. Know the pitfalls that awaited, consider every possibility of what could go wrong and make allowances for it, yet he hadn't done that with Cassidy. 

He considered that it was a deliberate act on his part, knowing that he didn't want to consider how his hopes of real love with someone who understood him could be dashed. Having the dream of being with her had lifted him out of the funk he was in, giving him a focus on something positive, something hopeful. A way hope of a happier life that he'd craved for so long, a dream that made him believe he still had some life left in him. 

_'What if you're just another client to her, man.'_ his overly sceptical internal voice warned, finally ripping off the duct tape over its mouth to bask in the negativity Michael was acknowledging. _'What if she makes everyone feel the same way you do about her?....I mean, it's her job to make you feel comfortable...Maybe it's all part of the charm...some kind of shrink trick....she's 'sposed to make you feel like she's your friend, like she gets you....Just like a stripper or a hooker does, and every time you fall for it!" his jaw tensed, pulling his lips into a tight line in the silence of the waiting area. "Jesus Christ, man. Don't be a fuckin' idiot! Why are you thinkin' it's somethin' more?.....It's her Goddamn job to make you feel good, like she's into you, same as that hipster downstairs.'_ he warned himself. _'Nah...."_ he dismissed internally, scrambling to find something to find an antidote to the poison flooding his mind. _"...You dunno that he was talkin' about Cass, it cudda been anyone!_ at that thought a new, more troubling sensation rolled through his stomach. _....But if that guy is thinkin' his therapist is into him, and I'm thinkin' mine is into me, then....it's gotta be a shrink tactic._ ' Michael shook his head softly, not liking the worrying reality he was rapidly becoming aware of. The one which he'd been so deliberately ignorant of. 

_'Jesus Christ. What the fuck are you doin'?'_ he asked himself. _'You really gonna risk throwin' everythin' away on her when she could be makin' everyone she treats feel the way you do about her?...This thing with her ain't real, man....It can't be! How the fuck could you have been so stupid?.... She's just doin' her job, for Christ sake! Being nice. There's nothin' there with her, it's just your need to feel like someone gives a fuck about you makin' it more, you fuckin' idiot!....How could you believe this is more than what it is?....She don't really care about you, man. She don't want you!...This is what she's paid to do, make you think there's a connection, like she relates to you, like she cares! You're a fuckin' fool for thinkin' there's somethin' else there!'_ he hissed at himself, feeling the light of all his hopes fading. _'And even if there was somethin' more, why would someone like her want a fat old fuck like you? She could have any man she wanted. There ain't no way she'd want someone like you, not even with all the money you got. You're fuckin' kiddin' yourself._ the toxicity of his own self-hatred had found fresh fuel in the new doubts in his mind, and the more he tried to argue with the sense he was slowly seeing, the harsher he became with himself. 

He'd come to her building with a plan of action, and a sense of determination to address what was happening between them, but the events down at ground level had thrown him off trajectory. A simple conversation overheard -a misunderstanding- had made him doubt everything that had happened between them. Causing him to quickly grow angry at himself, and annoyed with her. Pissed that everything had to be so unnecessarily complicated between them and that there were no clear answers for him to immediately, _and easily_ , latch onto.

Could he really be wrong about what he felt between them? Was the understanding he saw in her eyes fake? Just for show? A skill that she'd perfected in college? Had he been imaging being with her in so many different ways simply because she'd tricked him into believing she cared for him, outside of the hours she'd scheduled to spend with him? Had he been suffering so much for nothing? Had he been sad and pathetic enough to believe that someone could actually give a fuck about him, beyond the money he stood to help them gain? 

Was he just one client in a long line of desperate men who fell for her because she was pretty and played to their ego, made them feel like they weren't really the assholes they knew themselves to be? 

Was it all some kind of act that he'd bought into, like the movies he'd loved? A performance that made him feel so much for the character's on screen? Had the feelings in his body and thoughts in his head all been some kind of glorified lap dance; entrancing him into losing himself so he'd feel like life was good for once? 

Did their connection only exist in his own head, as some confused by-product of therapy? Had he allowed himself to chase another dream that was about to turn into one more nightmare? 

His blood was poisoned with pessimism, melting away all the positivity and joy he'd found in the past days from the time they'd spent together. Souring his memories of the beach and how they talked to one another on the level. _Connecting_. Joking with each other, guards dropped and hearts seemingly open. 

All that hope and promise he'd felt was gone now, made irrelevant by the harsh potential truths of their relationship. How could he have been so foolish to let himself ignore the reality of the situation he was in. He was a patient of hers, a client, a business transaction. Nothing more. 

Believing that he'd read everything wrong seemed to hurt worse than all the cuts, bruises and gunshot wounds he'd suffered over the years. The disappointment and death of the hope he'd held, that a guy like him might be worthy of something more than he already had. 

However, despite feeling so deflated and regretful, the determination to get some answers was stronger than ever. A fiery rage was rising from the ashes of his hopes and dreams, and as soon as her office door opened, she was going to get nastily burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys. I hope you enjoyed these two chapters, sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger again... _or am I?_ *evil laughter* I'd love to know what you thought of the updates, and if you still want more of this saga. Thanks again for reading! :o)


	20. A Tendency To Start Fires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am SO sorry to have left you wonderful readers hanging. I've been so busy recently I haven't had any time to get into my writers head-space to get this chapter ready for publishing, but I actually had a proper day off today and finally managed to get it done. 
> 
> This could very well be the last time Michael sets foot in Cassidy's office, so it's a long/dramatic chapter, and it had to be just right! I wanted to get inside Michael's head again and reveal some more of what I think he's hiding underneath that cool, charming, surface. 
> 
> So you might need a drink, and a snack, and maybe some tissues to get through this update, but I do hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much for being patient with me, and leaving so much love on the last chapters. You guys are the best! :o)

_Leaning over you here, cold and catatonic,_  
_I catch a brief reflection of what you could and might have been,_  
_It's your right and your ability,_  
_To become…my perfect enemy…_  
_Wake up (why can't you) and face me (come one now),_  
_Don’t play dead (don't play dead),_  
_Cause maybe (because maybe),_  
_Someday I’ll (someday I'll) walk away and say, “You fuckin' disappoint me,”_  
_Maybe you’re better off this way...._  


**\-- Passive by A Perfect Circle**  


As the minutes ticked ever closer to his appointment time, Michael's angry eyes focused in and out on the handle of Dr. Nardovino's office door, getting himself poised and ready to pounce as soon as it clicked open. 

The silence of the waiting area should have helped to calm the storm that raged within him but instead it seemed to only allow more confusion and anxiety to layer itself over his sour anger. 

In the quiet more and more questions had filled his mind, sending doubts spilling over into every part of him. Making him see every moment he'd shared with her in a different -negative- light. Helping him become increasingly more and more aware of the possibility that he'd been an idiot for her, and all she seemed to have falsely promised him. The suggestive glances and deep stares that told her apparent understanding. The unspoken connection he'd be sure he felt with her, that said he'd found someone who actually cared. Could it really have all just been a professional performance? 

With tense shoulders he found familiar dark clouds settling heavily on his mind and dragging him into that space where he became blind to the world around him. Losing himself and reality, and slipping down into a welcoming haze of bitterness. Dwelling for too long on every negative and letting the anger simmer inside him, heating his veins. Turning his mood more and more caustic, coaxing him ever closer into acting out. 

Bitterness always had a knack for convincing him aggression was the answer, he'd often bottle things up, bite his tongue, for days, sometimes weeks, until it the right trigger was pulled and sent his boiling rage exploding over everyone around him. 

He felt certain he'd finally reached his breaking point, and knew confrontation was needed. A screaming match would solve everything, he was sure, but the calmness and familiar safety that he felt around him made it so his heart didn't know how to break the seal. 

It would have been so much easier to rage, and he so wanted to throw a mass of blame on her for the chaos in his head, but he couldn't get there because deep down he knew he only had himself to blame. 

He'd allowed himself to dream, _to believe._ Old habits still existed within in him. The old routine of forever chasing better things, only to find nothing but disappointment in them, winding up flat on his ass and regretting every choice he'd ever made. How could he have ever thought things with her would be any different? 

He sighed audibly, gently shaking his heavy head as he sat there lost in the no-man's-land between unbridled rage and a creepy, passive-aggressive like calm. It felt like a mere pin drop would launch him straight into worst possible direction, but then an unexpected sound cracked through the static in his ears. 

"Hey!" her gentle tone called, breaking the dense wall of thought around Michael's head with an almost audible shatter. 

Instantly he turned his head to her door. Straightening up from his slouch and squaring his shoulders as his eyes locked onto her and his ears fell deaf against the torrents of negativity in his mind. Silencing all the anxiety for a moment to allow a little hope to step back out of the darkness within him. 

With his troubled mind temporarily stalled, his mouth open to respond but no sound came out. He couldn't find any words for her, but his eyes began to wander over her figure, taking her all in. She had her dark hair tied up again, high and neat. Dressed black wide leg pants and a long sleeved white blouse, buttoned to her collar bone, to hide herself away from him all over again. 

A ripple of frustration curled through his abdomen at the sight; he couldn't understand why she chose to dress such a way, especially after their time on the beach a few days earlier. It seemed that just when he really needed to see the young woman who hid behind the controlled professional, she'd put up walls around herself again. Physically with her conservative clothes and mentally with the look in her eyes that said Cassidy was tied down somewhere inside the polite, composed doctor that stood before him. 

With the reminder of how she could so effortlessly be two different people, the intermission in his anger came to an abrupt end. Seeing her there in her perfect shrink costume reminded him of how the woman he'd spent most time with was not the woman he'd been mesmerized by at the beach. 

How could he trust anything she said to him, or the way she behaved, when she wore such a prominent mask? Especially during his therapy, when he was most vulnerable and in need of someone who really understood the mess that lived in his head, which was hidden away behind his own mask. 

As he stared blankly at her, a thought popped into his head that suggested maybe he was a little jealous of her ability to transition between two personas so seamlessly. The different sides of his own personality were divided roughly after all, barely able to function together in any kind of harmony, but jealousy was just one of a dozen or more emotions that he held for her, and everything she was. 

She fidgeted in the doorway, smoothing out her shirt as she waited for him to properly acknowledge her, but he just kept staring in silence. After all that had happened between them, and especially in that moment, he couldn't understand why she kept hiding away from him. With her there before him, back to default professionalism, he tried to reconcile that which he knew and that which he felt. 

Wondering if the connection he sensed between them was phony, all some twisted by-product of therapy. Were those moments when he'd seen understanding in her eyes genuine, or a big act she'd learned how to put on in college? A way to make him and her other patients trust her and open up. Was it all some kind of trick to convince him she was a friend and not a paid professional? 

Was the women he'd met twice at her house who she really was, or was that in fact the act? Did that version of her understand him from personal experience, or was it just the books she'd read that gave her the insight? Why was she scared of letting him see who she really was? Was she trying to protect herself, or him? Did she know he wouldn't be able to handle the truth that there was nothing between them? Was she just going through the motions with him, handling him on sufferance in the same was his wife did? 

A thousand questions all seemed to come at once, making his jaw tense. He pulled his eyes away from her and looked down to his clenched fists. He was so sick of getting twisted up in his head, wishing things could be simple only to get more and more complicated by the fact he didn't know how to handle his own emotions or analyse his thoughts. How had he let a woman like her eat into his mind the way she had? 

In the silent standoff Dr. Nardovino struggled with the pull of running back into her office and locking the door, never to see him again, or reaching out and trying to take the pain she saw in his eyes away. She hadn't anticipated him looking so haunted, she was ready for a fight, but he was giving off an aura that made something hurt inside her. 

He seemed so tense, holding weighty negativity in his shoulders, perched uncomfortably on the edge of the seat like a cat waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. Something about the way he stared at nothing and everything all at once unnerved her, shook what little confidence she'd gathered up to face him with, but there was no running away now. 

He clearly needed to talk about something, and as scared as she was to find out, it was time to get to the bottom of what was going on between them, once and for all. So they could both move on and release the constant twisting of their hearts and minds. 

"You gonna come in?" she asked gently, feeling as if one false move would cause an explosion and cautious of putting demands on him. 

He looked up at her again, and as his feet wanted to move instantly on her word, but he hesitated, unsure if he wanted to go in at all. It felt like the office was a cage; trapping him inside with someone he couldn't made any sense of. Someone who was as good at living a double life as he, a liar and a cheat. Someone who was tricking him into believing something that didn't exist, pushing him deeper inside his head and making him crazier than he already knew he was. 

He couldn't be sure if he wanted to be around someone who he couldn't understand, especially as she had a terrifying ability to disarm him, and put a crack in the walls of defence that he'd built up so high around himself. 

Feeling uneasy with the awkward situation, and guessing it was for the best if she didn't push, Dr. Nardovino simply gave him a faint but warm smile and stepped back into her office, leaving the door open for him to enter as he pleased. 

She knew it was for the best if he decided if and when to come in on his own. He clearly had something to get past before he opened himself up to her again, and she needed a moment to gather her own thoughts and gain some semblance of control over herself and the apparent oncoming storm. 

Naturally Michael's eyes followed her, the hungry side of himself letting his gaze linger on her ass as he watched her walk back inside. Wondering if she deliberately swayed her hips in the seductive way she did to tease him -and all her male patients- or if it was her natural gait. Either way, it heated him up inside, releasing lust into mix with his feelings of anger, uncertainty and frustration. 

His mind cast back to the hipster he'd nearly murdered outside Bean Machine only moments earlier, and he wondered if that guy had noticed the way she walked. If she covered herself up especially for his sessions, or if he was actually deemed worthy of seeing her skin during office hours. Was the younger man privileged enough to know who Cassidy was, or had he only seen Dr. Nardovino? Were their interactions more personal than professional? Did he show up at her house and see the side of her that promised so much? Did she have a connection with him too? Or a bond with her other patients? One that was perhaps deeper he himself could never hope to achieve? 

He swallowed hard and tightened his mouth, still fixed to his seat and dwelling on the dark thoughts that had filled his head since entering the elevator to her floor. Painful thoughts that had made him doubt every single moment they'd ever shared. Questions that filled him with the desire to turn tail and run as quickly as he could, to the tune of the alarm bells that sang about how he was a fool. A fool who needed to abandon all hope, admit defeat and return to his safe, but unfulfilled life. 

With a cocktail of emotions simmering in his gut, he looked contemplatively out to the lobby, which was devoid of life beyond the receptionist who sat behind the front desk filing her nails. He had options. He could walk away and go back to his life, forget he'd ever heard the name Doctor Cassidy Nardovino. Ditch the idea that she was promising him something that he had craved his whole life, and run back to his wife, try to do things right as he'd promised. It would be so easy to walk away and forget the last six weeks had ever happened, but the call of her office was too loud to ignore. 

A muted sunlight flowing through the door into the windowless waiting area, enticing him in. Silently suggesting that all was not lost. Promising him that if he could just get through his anger and confusion - to level with her somehow- maybe things would work out. Maybe he'd get to chase the dream properly. 

Before he'd truly made up his mind about what to do, his legs tensed and knees straightened to bring him up to standing. A string inside tried to pull him back, to stop him going inside but the rope he felt around his middle pulling him to her was stronger. Before he could protest his feet were blindly leading him over to her office door and through into the clinical room which had been witness to so many of his secrets. 

Stepping through the door his eyes found her instantly, sitting perfectly in her usual chair. Glasses on top of her head and notepad in her lap. Her shrink disguise already in place and poised to handle him in the detached, clinical manner she strived to achieve. A way he was now considering as a cookie cutter for all her patients, who were weak enough to allow themselves to become deluded into believing she really cared about them. 

Unsure of what steps next to take, and still too pent up to sit, Michael simply closed the door behind him and began to wander aimlessly around the room. His eyes unfocused and thoughts still torn between staying put, or running away. 

His visible unease was a distinct contrast to how Dr. Nardovino sat patient and still. Hiding her emotions away behind the skilled mask she'd put in place. Keeping a quiet, graceful control over the war within her as she waited for him to be ready, just as she always did. Hoping he'd take the lead, but readying herself to dig deep for the confidence needed to induce a dialogue if he refused to play his part. 

Her telephone call to her friend and former college Maria hadn't been the great help she'd hoped it would be. In fact, all it had done was give her more to worry about. With him there in such a state, it didn't feel appropriate to follow the advice she'd been given but her mentor's words still rattled around noisily in her head. 

She had hoped confessing her troubles to someone she trusted would have been a relief. A way of reassuring herself and giving her the drive to tackle Michael head on, but as in the moments between hanging up and opening the office door passed, she had felt her confidence to handle him begin to wane, and it had all but dissolved at the sight of him. 

How was she ever going to put Maria's advice in to practice with him appearing to be so distant and anxious. After everything she'd been thinking and feeling in the past days, she wasn't feeling strong enough to risk poking at the unpredictable wolf that stalked around her office. 

She'd agonized over the session since the moment she'd left him near Del Perro Pier. Switching between panicking about nothing else, to burying her head and pretending she'd never have to face him again, but there was no escaping now. She had to do all that she could to wrangle him around and attempt to establish a firm professional distance with him. Try to recall the words she'd plotted to say to him in the few moments of clarity she'd had in the past days, but the session had started so differently in her head.  
Now he was there, with his prickly energy and scent of his expensive cologne filling the room, all planning for control lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. It was clear she'd already lost control of the session and it had barely even started. His edgy mood was palpable and silence greatly affected the balance of power. Things were not looking good for her, and she knew it, but it was against her nature to lay down and die. She wouldn't be defeated without putting up some kind of fight. 

She kept silent for a few more moments, silently reassuring herself that she could handle things, as she hoped he'd calm himself down enough to be civil with her. She sat still and quiet in her chair, finding her mind straying a little, bringing her to resent just how good he looked in the outfit he was wearing - an expensive back suit with a crisp white shirt and those Italian leather shoes that creaked and clicked as he paced across her wooden floor. 

He looked so handsome, and strangely younger than his years too, despite the way his furrowed brow bought out all the fine lines on his face. She hated how just the very sight of him could pull down her guard and lead her over to the corner of her head where she'd indulged her fantasies. Where everything she'd locked down pulled against the restraints to send torrid thoughts and images dancing across her mind. 

She couldn't allow for that anymore; things had gone much too far. The breaks needed to be put on the runway cart before they both crashed head first into a rapidly approaching wall. The foolish fantasy of being with him had to be boxed up and locked away with so many other lost hopes within her. Tied down firmly once and for all, with all the other parts of herself that she constantly tried to suppress. 

If she was ever going to help him, she had to be professional. She had to stop wondering about what could be with him beyond her office walls and focus on what was going on _within_ them. He was a troubled man, flawed and broken in so many ways. A married man, a father too. A cheater, a liar, a criminal and a mass murderer. He wasn't boyfriend material, he wasn't Prince Charming come to save her from herself. He wasn't the answer to her problems, the end of her loneliness. He was everything she'd tried to avoid in recent years personified. 

_No!_ He wasn't what she needed in her life. Not at all! 

She had to be mature, and not let her need to be loved and truly understood by someone get in the way of her professional duty to him. They would be bad for each other, that much was obvious and feeling something for him beyond professional concern could only do more harm than good. She had to believe that! If only to save herself and the life she'd built to get away from everything men like Michael De Santa bought with them. 

Determined to be a therapist and not a love-struck school girl, Dr. Nardovino cleared her throat loudly. Hoping it would order her thoughts and prompt him into speaking, as she quickly slipped her glasses on. Saying a silent prayer that the frames would give her some protection and a place to hide if he forced the spotlight to turn back around on her. 

She hated feeling so anxious and beating around the bush; her instinct was to jump in and start the session straight away but the calmer -professional- manner she'd learned and cultivated over the years held her back. Told her to give him few moments more to take the lead himself, but of course he didn't. He wouldn't. He was being stubborn, wanting her to come to him. 

Wandering around the room, lost in his own head just as he'd been times before. Pacing back and forth, shoulders tense, hands almost attempting to gesture as if he was about to say something but never actually partnering with his thoughts long enough to form the right words. 

She sighed quietly, hissing to herself about how difficult he was. The fact that something seemed to be troubling him again, troubled her in return. Confused her about how best to begin, worried about what he'd done this time. 

She knew the smart move would be to get to the bottom of what was going on in his life, before trying to address what was going on between them. Somehow she'd bring it round to her agenda before his time ran out. 

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about first today?" she finally offered, casting him out a chance to lead. 

However, he wasn't taking the bait. It was clear that he was unwilling to settle down into the session and open up. Filling her with an odd sense of frustration and annoyance. It was just typical of him to show up and throw everything she'd planned into chaos. Shaking the ground she was on and making her have to think on her feet and grip ever tighter to her defences. 

With an impulsive urge to get things moving and illicit some reaction from him, she opened her notepad and took out a small slip of paper with some information handwritten on it. "I managed to find you the number for a therapist who is willing to work with you and your wife." she announced, leaning forward and sliding the piece of paper across the coffee table to the point that he usually focused his eyes on when seated. "I've written his number and email address down if you want to get in touch and make an appointment. I think it could be beneficial for your marriage." 

Her words cut through the darkness in Michael's head light a bolt of lightning in the night, and his eyes shot to the coffee table and then to her. Renewed bitterness swelling within him at the mere mention of her trying to save his marriage. Especially when she'd unwittingly caused him to mentally stray further from his wife than ever before. 

How could she sit there talking about repairing his marriage when every night since the moment he'd clapped eyes on her, he'd laid next to his wife fantasying about escaping it all with her - his therapist. 

He knew she wasn't aware of just how deeply his attraction to her ran, or how heavy the thoughts of an affair were in his mind and as a result it was wrong to be angry at her but he wanted to be. He wanted to hate her for how often he found himself lost in imagining her naked body, wondering what it would be like to touch her, and taste her, but he couldn't help feeling anger towards her merely for the fact that she _wasn't_ aware of what she did to him. How badly she made him want her. If she realized what she was doing to him, maybe things would level out. 

He felt a growl developing in his throat, filling him with the urge to reveal it all. To lash out, overreact and cut all the bullshit down and get right to the chase. To tell her how he felt, what he really wanted from her, but he even though he grabbed for it, he couldn't find the rip cord within in to release it all. He felt stunted again, afraid to take a leap, unsure of how solid the ground would be for him to land on at the other side. 

Dr. Nardovino could feel the heat of his irritation even from across the room. She wanted to know what he was pissed off about this time, but a part of her knew the answer already. If she allowed herself read him properly, it was clear that he hadn't come to her with problems about his wife, or his friends or his career. It was obvious even in the silence that his beef was with her and no one else. She had wanted to deny it but she could practically smell it on him the second she saw him, and it had already begun to pick at her seams. 

Telling herself now was the time she needed to hold it together more than ever, she took a deep breath and sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. Resting her elbows of the chair which allowed her to steeple her fingers, bracing herself for the outburst that was threatening. 

He sensed her movement behind him again and stopped pacing. Glancing over to find her once again, noting how she was sitting. It seemed like she had her guard up, more physically that before. Like a boxer in their corner getting ready to come out swinging. 

She wasn't as naive as she looked, and somehow he could tell that she'd read him well enough to know what was on his mind. He didn't know why, but something about her attitude provoked him and hit the switch for his voice. 

"Do they teach you to sit like that in shrink school?" he snarled, sounding more bitter than he'd perhaps intended. The doubts and frustrations in his mind sat in the driving seat of his mouth, forcing out harshness he wasn't fully convinced he wanted to spout. 

"Excuse me?" she returned, trying to be polite as her eyebrow raised in a confrontational manner. 

"Like that." he stabbed a finger at her, making her immediately aware of herself and the way his eyes held a moment too long on her breasts. Something flickering in the steel blue of his gaze that warned he was considering doing something crazy. "Friedlander did it too..." he got out against his urge to rush at her. "I'm just wondering if there was a class on how to sit, or somethin' in shrink school?" 

The tone of his voice made it unclear if he was trying to be funny or salty, but she kept her reply even. Not wanting to provoke him into overreacting and shifting the balance of power further in his favour 

"No, they didn't cover that." she replied, thinking about the other things they didn't cover. Like ridiculously handsome patients who were so charismatic, magnetic and downright fucking complicated that all common sense and professional thought fled in fear of him.

He narrowed his eyes at her and turned away again, clearly irritated by something beyond her words. "Are you okay, Michael?" she probed, already knowing the answer but wanting to give him an opening to share whatever was riding on his back. Hoping it would kick-start them into clearing the air. 

"Pretty fuckin' far from okay today, Doc." he gave, his voice straining to hold back all he wanted to release into her office. 

She took another deep breath, steadying herself. Ignoring her internal voice that tried to shake her confidence, and pushed on with her professional instincts. Trying to appear strong and calm, ready to take on anything he had to throw at her. 

"So what's on your mind?" she asked out, giving him all the opportunity he needed to say what he had to say. Subconsciously hoping she was giving him enough rope to hang himself with and put an end to the torment they were both suffering through. 

Michael stopped pacing and looked at her again, her big blue eyes cut right to his soul, reminding him that it was wrong of him to be acting the way he was, shutting her out. After all, he'd come there with the intent of levelling with her once and for all, but he'd been thrown off by the idiot outside. 

It was unfair to be annoyed with her for what was happening inside him, she wasn't the soul cause of the issues he was having. He knew it was all his own fault to have blown things up out of all proportion, to let himself believe she was the answer he'd searched so long for. He should never have let himself get carried away with the idea that she wanted more from him than a pay cheque. The only thing he was good for, was money after all. 

She'd infected his head in so many ways that he wanted to hate her for it, he _should_ have hated her for it, but he couldn't. Losing himself in the fantasy of what could be with her had been a kind of therapy in itself. A way for him to mentally escape the life he hated and live in a dream that promised things could be better for him somehow someday. An age old coping technique he'd mastered as a child, but the harsh truths of adulthood showed him dreams were often just nightmares in disguise. 

In that moment he felt torn. The anger inside wanted to lash out. Make it all her fault, push the blame for his pain solely onto her. Confront her with what he felt and demand that she felt it too, insist that she gave into it. Do something crazy that would force them to act upon the chemistry that bubbled away between them. While at the same time his softer side -the one that held what little sense he had left- pushed back and told him not to be harsh with her. 

He wanted her to comfort him somehow; to tell him he wasn't crazy or foolish. Reassure him that things weren't as ruined as they seemed. Blaming her for the problems he'd created himself was a sure-fire way to make her hate him, like everyone else did. He didn't need to add another name to the list of people who couldn't stand him, and she didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of the anger he mainly felt for himself and his own blind stupidity. 

"I nearly laid a guy out downstairs just now." he muttered, his hostility cooled slightly by his confusion. 

"Why?" she frowned, unsure of the connection to the action what she thought was going on in his head. How could a guy downstairs could have had such an influence on his mood, enough to make his anger appear to be directed at her? 

Michael wanted to tell her the truth, to ask her if the guy _was_ her patient. Find out of there was something going on between them, but he didn't know how without revealing everything he'd been thinking and feeling for her first. 

He guessed that if he told her the truth, she'd over analyse it and make him feel stupid for feeling like he did. She'd almost certainly push him away for acting like a jealous boyfriend, and rightly so. She was a therapist he had known for less than two months, and despite every intimate vibe he got from her and every desire he held for her, the fact still remained that at that moment all she was to him _was_ a therapist. 

"Things are just really pissin' me off right now." he allowed, wanting to talk and trying the best he could to break the seal his anger had formed across his mouth and cut away all the bullshit that clouded his thoughts and true feelings. "I finally figured somethin' out recently..." he offered cryptically, trying his best to tell her what was going on, while still too hesitant to be direct and release the blunt facts. "I thought I knew how to handle this situation I'm in, but now...I think I mighta got it all wrong." 

He wasn't making it easy for her, but she wasn't going to give up. She had an idea of what he was trying to get at, but she couldn't be certain. Maybe she was being arrogant to think he was indirectly talking about her and their relationship - she had to be sure. "Work or family?" she asked.

He cast his eyes to her, realizing that for once neither was at the top of his shit-list. "Neither." 

Her throat tightened nervously with the confirmation she'd sort after. "Okay..." she hesitated, but the words on her tongue fell out before she could grab them. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?" 

Their eyes locked, making him feel cornered, pinned against the nearest wall. Despite her confident posture, her eyes looked worried and suddenly he couldn't find any of the cruel words he'd planned to throw at her. 

Something about the look on her face said she knew exactly what he was getting at but he couldn't latch onto it. He wanted to blurt everything out to her, and now was his chance but the words he'd planned to speak wouldn't form in his mouth. Something was holding him back, and he wasn't sure if he was grateful or not. 

"I dunno what's goin' on in my head, Doc." he said, feeling his anger submit to self-doubt. "...What I'm feelin', I mean...." he turned away again, talking to the window. "Just when I think I understand somethin', it all gets fucked up again." his arm swung out as if to punctuate his statement. "Like just now..." he half turned back to her and gestured to the outer wall of her office. "...I thought I had it all figured out this mornin', I thought I knew how to fix all this shit, and one thing goes and fucks it all up." 

"How so?" she quizzed, hoping to tease out what was really going on in his head. 

Michael sighed and softly shook his head. He wasn't a man who did well with dancing around the point, second guessing every word spoken. He bottled a lot of things up, but usually when he was presented with a chance to let them all come gushing out, he took it. He couldn't help himself most of the time. Yet even though she was now offering him the stage he needed to finally get the answers he longed for, he didn't know how to ask the questions that burned inside him. 

Truth was, he was afraid of saying too much and losing the link to the one person in the world who actually seemed to understand him. Even if it was just an act, the feeling that someone really identified with him was too good to risk losing. 

_'It's all an act.'_ The aggressive voice in his head chimed in. _'She doesn't understand you. You're just payin' her to care, she couldn't give a shit. An educated chick like her would never understand the life you came from, the shit you been through. She just thinks she gets it because there's instructions in some book on how to understand assholes like you!_ he felt his shoulders tense up again, allowing oxygen to get to the weakening flames of anger inside him, causing them to burn brighter again. 

"I guess I realized that somethin' I thought was giving me joy has got the potential to cause me so much fuckin' drama." he pushed out, his voice a low growl that showed both frustration and anger. 

Dr. Nardovino nodded to herself. "It's good that you've realized that." she told him, unsure of how else to proceed, or how to put any of the actions she'd planned or the advice she'd sort into play. 

Becoming increasingly annoyed by his uncharacteristic inability to cut to the chase, Michael turned back to the window. Still refusing to sit, wishing he could leave and come back in again. Start the morning over, forget that he'd ever decided to confront her, and just go back to convincing himself to keep his idiotic fantasies to himself. 

_Scratch that_ \- a do over for the past several weeks would have been better. Starting with never replying to the initial email she'd sent him. If they'd never met her things would have been different. Sure, his marriage would have still been fucked but at least he wouldn't have seen an escape route. Maybe if he'd never felt such promise from her, he'd still be able to be civil at home. It'd be easier to remain trapped, to keep maintain the domestic status quo, lonely and unfulfilled, if he didn't think there was anything better out there for him. Yet now he'd seen that there was the possibility for him to revive himself with someone like Cassidy, he knew he couldn't go back to settling for a life half lived. 

Silence fell between them again, making Dr. Nardovino feel even more awkward. She didn't know what to say, or how to move forward without causing a can of worms to spill out all over the place. They had to address what was happening between them, and the sooner the better, but she couldn't find the push she needed. 

Every time he looked at her, with that wounded puppy expression he wore rendered her defenceless. There was so much she had to do and say, so much to cover to put them back on track and find the patient/therapist relationship again but she didn't know how to do it, or if it was even worth trying to save it. Too much had happened between them, and she was quickly beginning to feel that Maria had been right all along. Their therapeutic bond, was blown. 

"Why do you do that?" he asked out randomly, waving his hand towards her. 

His voice snapped her out from under the haze she felt around her, she hadn't realized he'd turned to face her again - staring at her with a look that mixed curiosity with resentment. "Do what?" she asked with a solemn frown; wondering what he suddenly wanted to take issue with now. 

"Wear clothes like that." he said flatly. "Coverin' up so much." 

She was surprised by his line of questioning, finding it an odd thing to take issue with in that moment, considering how much was left unspoken under the heaviness in the air. "It's professional." she offered. 

"Bullshit." Michael snapped. He'd caught her off guard enough to know she only covered up when he came around, but he also knew it was silly to ask such a thing - she wasn't going to confess to the real reason why she hid from him, but he couldn't resist prodding her for reaction. 

She thought for a beat, knowing she couldn't tell him how his eyes made her bare skin tingle. Or how she'd rationalized that the more clothes she had to take off the less likely she was to strip naked with him. 

"My tattoo." she offered hopelessly, her eyes glancing to her forearm. "I need to know peoples' history, they don't need to know mine." 

Michael's expression didn't buy it, neither did the huff he gave. "But you only wear the pants and button up to your neck when I'm around." he told her, unknowingly trying to antagonize. 

"No I don't." she returned adamantly. Not willing to allow him to jemmy open her defences with such a personal attack. They weren't there to talk about her fashion sense. 

Michael narrowed his eyes at her; they both knew she was lying to him. He should have pulled her up on it right there and then, but the doctor in front of him would never reveal herself to him in the same way the young woman she really was would. 

Temporarily defeated, they both returned to their corners. Her eyes going to her notepad as he turned away and wandered over to her desk. He wished for the anger he'd felt in the waiting room to come back to him. Fire him up enough to start yelling at her, so they could dig out all the bullshit and get right to the source of their issues, but he couldn't find the spark to properly ignite it into full blown anger. Instead he found the vines of passive aggression creeping around his throat. 

"Do you do this with all your patients?" he asked, turning back to face her once more. 

"Do _what_?" she exclaimed, making a face. Frustration almost getting the better of her, wondering just what the hell he was trying to get at this time. 

He narrowed his eyes, gestured between them passionately as if to point something invisible out. Trying to find the words to throw at her, but he came up empty. He didn't know what he wanted to say, and the look on her face, was so horribly disarming. 

"Nothin'." he dismissed with a wave of his hand, but his mind was again riddled with thoughts about how she might behave with other male patients, and it had the potential to drive him to act out. 

Dr. Nardovino focused in on herself, breathing deep and calming the side of herself that wanted to launch an attack. The back and forth between them wasn't allowing her any room to tackle the issues she'd intended to and he was pushing all her buttons. Intentionally? She wasn't sure, but he clearly wanted to say something and so did she, but they'd never get anywhere with him standing up, pacing like a caged animal, looking like he was about to bolt through the door any second. 

"Is there a reason you're not sitting down?" she asked firmly. Hoping if she could just get his nervous energy to settle, she'd find her feet enough to clear a way through and get to the bottom of what was going on. 

Michael looked over to her, and realized how obviously uncomfortable he must have looked. The troubled look on her face unnerved him, and he gave in on sigh. Dragging himself over to the seating area and dropping down into his usual spot on the couch. Leaning forward with his forearms rested on his lap, his hands hanging between his legs. 

His eyes found the slip of paper on the coffee table, and a slither of hot anger skittered through his gut. A sour reminder of the life he had outside of her office, and all the big promises he'd made to his family. 

"How are things going at home?" she asked out, as if she could read his mind. Unsure of how else to start and keen to move focus onto something more specific. Hoping it would help find a place to start with addressing all that was unspoken, as it had done in past sessions. 

"Not good." he gave, too unfocused on himself to get at the real issues, hoping she had the words to fill in the blanks and to his relief she nodded. 

"Are things still difficult involving your relationship with Trevor?" she quizzed, hoping to work the same magic she had before. It always seemed that by starting on an unrelated topic that she could bring focus back around to have him reveal what he really wanted to say. 

"Trevor is the least of my problems right now, Doc." he replied, the tone of his voice said he wanted her to pry. 

"How so?"

That was it! His opening to blurt everything out to her. 

To tell her everything he felt, all the hope and all the doubts. His one chance to let it all come pouring out and finally find some clarity but his jaw locked. Fear stopped him speaking, afraid that if he opened his heart and mind to her he'd lose her for good, as a therapist, and a friend and whatever else she _almost_ was to him.

"I've been sleepin' on the couch the past couple days 'cause apparently, I'm too much of a bastard to be allowed into my own bed." he offered, giving her something to work with and a way to fill the time. It was of course partly a lie, while things had been increasingly strained at home, he'd actually been avoiding sharing a bed with his wife for fear of what secrets he might reveal while he was asleep. He'd been dreaming about Cassidy almost constantly in recent weeks, and his body gave away far too many secrets while he was unconscious. 

Dr. Nardovino nodded, hiding her rush of relief well. It felt worryingly good to know that was the situation at home, and he'd unknowingly given her the perfect segue into addressing what Maria had suggested. She was never going to get a better opportunity, so she jumped on it. 

"Has that affected your sexual behaviours?" she questioned boldly. 

Michael's eyebrows raised a little in surprise. He didn't expect her to hit on that note, at least not so suddenly. "Not really." he shrugged, looking away, his eyes glancing over the lifeless piece of paper on the coffee table again, calling forward what little conscience he had left only to be brushed away before it could speak to him. "I ain't had sex with her in ages now, so this ain't exactly a new thing." he told, glancing back up at her again just in time to note an emotion he couldn't name pass across her eyes. 

Relief, _maybe?_ No, he was reading her wrong again. Had to be.  
"And what about outside of your marriage?" she encouraged. 

Michael let his eyes run over her face for a moment, looking for a clue as to why she was choosing to ask those kind of questions at that moment. Maybe it was some twisted, ass-backward way of getting him to reveal the finer points of his current issues. "I've had thoughts." he confessed. "Some serious, fuckin' thoughts." 

"Such as?" she asked rashly, instantly regretting it. Fearing he would tell her something she really didn't want to hear, for one reason or another. 

He looked at her deeply, daring not to voice the things he'd been thinking about her. How he'd imagined what was underneath her bikini a thousand times since seeing her on the beach. Lusting over her like some hormone riddled teenager. Laying there at night fantasising about the ways he could take her in her office. Wondering about the way she'd moan, and how her skin would glisten in the midst of passionate sex. Thinking about the things he could do to her to make her scream his name. 

Something told him that even if he told her every tiny torrid detail he'd thought of, she wouldn't break the mask she'd been wearing so well since taking up in her new office. However, the devil in him did so want to test her. 

The negativity he'd found that morning encouraged him into pushing her buttons, urging him to mess with her. Just see how she'd react to him telling her bluntly about all the things he thought of doing to her, but then he had a better idea. _A crueller idea._ A smarter way to test her from two angles without completely blowing things between them. A way to hurt her just a little like she'd unknowingly hurt him. A chance to push her into feeling all the confusion, anger and jealousy the event outside at ground level had caused him to suffer. 

"Well...." he began, his mind quickly concocting a story, a talent he'd honed in making excuses to the police in his youth, pulling scores, and then lying to his wife in later life. "There's a couple of hot little actresses at the studio." he told boldly. Studying her face for a reaction, hoping for a hint of jealousy to expose itself, but she didn't even flinch. She was locked down into full control mode, but he wasn't done. 

"And this make-up artist...." he whistled. "She is hot!" he emphasised each word with a muted passion, but still the good doctor remained poker faced. "But there's this one chick, an intern." he lied. "She's somethin' else all together." something flickered in Dr. Nardovino's eyes, and it spurred him on. "She's professional. Flirts with me a lot, but in this weird way, like she's pretendin' she's not doing it. Playin' hard to get, ya know?" he asked cockily, wanting her to show she was following. 

Dr. Nardovino nodded, struggling not to ask him outright if he was trying to get at something. "No. I don't know." she said tonelessly, her eyes blank. "But continue..." 

Michael felt a growl stir in his chest, he was getting to her, even if she was too stubborn to show it. Seeing her struggle internally was the perfect remedy to all the darkness he'd been holding within himself, and with a devilish smirk he did as she requested. 

"Well, she's got inside my head, real good and I can't stop thinkin' about her, especially lately....I-" he hesitated, thinking it best not to get too carried away with revealing just what he'd got up to with thoughts of her in his mind. "...I see her around sometimes, when she's not workin' and there's somethin' there between us, for sure." he said confidently, looking his therapist right in the eye. "I'm feelin' all these things for her, and she's makin' me wanna do somethin' crazy..." he saw something shimmer in the ocean blue of her eyes but her expression still remained emotionless. "...but I don't know if she feels the same way, or if I'm-" 

She cut in on impulse. "Reading too much into it?" 

Michael's eyes instantly darkened, narrowing angrily and pulling his lips into a harsh line. Again it was as if she could read his mind, one step ahead. Playing him at his own game without him having even realized it. 

Her professional side screamed at her to confront him, to ask him outright if he was indirectly talking about their relationship, but her true self wouldn't allow for it. She already knew he was and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of playing into his hands. She had him where he needed to be to establish a professional relationship and clarify some boundaries and she had to take the chance he'd unknowingly give her. 

"Did you not think to mention this earlier?" she asked, playing along. 

Michael gave a huff of empty laughter. "I was handlin' it." 

"And now you're not?" her eyes were blank, stoic and avoidant in revealing what was going truly on in her head and heart. 

"Guess not." he growled lowly, stretching his neck for a second before looking back into her eyes. Trying to silently tell her what he couldn't find the words to say directly. "We had a.... _a thing_....a _moment_...recently." he explained, hinting at how their time at the beach had cemented his feelings for her and inflated them from a harmless fantasy to a desperate desire to make all his dreams a reality. "I'm not sure if she felt it too but it seems like she's pushin' me into actin' out and-" Dr. Nardovino cut in. 

"Is it worth ruining your marriage for?" 

He looked at her deeply, his mind filled with a chorus of rampant _'yeses'_. "There ain't much marriage left to ruin." he told. 

She broke eye contact with him, forcing herself to ignore the voice in her head that was telling her to throw caution to the wind and give in to what she knew they both wanted. The stronger side of her forced her to remain firm, to resist falling prey to his childish games. She couldn't afford to bend to the frustrations he infected her with. She didn't need to add 'home-wrecker' to the list of labels she carried on her back. 

She needed to pour some cold water over him, _and herself._ To remind them both that she was a professional, and not some chick at a bar who he was flirting with. Discussing the ugly side of sex head on might do something to put a roadblock in his path to trying to seduce her. 

"I have to broach this subject with you Michael," she began. "...and I know it might be a little awkward for you to discuss it, with me being a woman an all..." his expressional turned quizzical, troubled by her warning and disappointed by how easily she'd deflected his attempts to provoke her and make her jealous. "...but I've noticed in Dr. Friedlander's notes there's a lot of reference to your sexual behaviours, insecurities and such. I know we've touched on it before, but it's something we need to discuss at a greater length, particularly now things are so strained at home. It's vital that..." she stopped herself, realizing she was rambling. 

Michael's eyes sparkled wickedly; her lack of focus told him he'd got to her. It amused him to see how uneasy she was in talking about such things, but he sensed she wasn't that way in general, just with him - in that moment. Fighting herself away from leaping over the edge with him, by saying or doing something that would shatter her mask. 

"What d'ya wanna know, Doc?" he tempted. 

"Well," inside she was panicking, unsure of where she was going with any of what she was saying, but she'd backed herself into a corner. "...I know you said you've been faithful since reconciling with your wife, and you mentioned alcohol being a trigger for your infidelity but I'd like to focus on the emotional triggers that made you decide to be unfaithful in the first place, so we can work towards you preventing that in the future, given the current circumstances of your home life." 

The wind dropped right out of Michael's sails, she'd again managed to steer the boat completely off the course he'd chartered. How she completely avoided referencing the fictional women he'd told just told her about made him realize she was probably onto his bullshit. Too smart to be misled by his natural bullshit spinning abilities. 

"There was nothin' emotional to it, Doc. It just kinda happened." he said in a low, almost angry, growl. 

"Okay?" she tried to look encouraging. Hoping he wasn't seeing through her act, as she worried his words about the women he worked with weren't just part of some silly game he was playing to wind her up. 

He thought for a moment, not sure how to address her question and wishing he could turn things back to how they were a moment ago. Put the heat on her and make her uncomfortable, but before he could come up with a way to deflect her line of questioning, his mouth was running away from him.  
"After hearin' _'you're not good enough'_ , _'you're doin' it wrong'_ , _'you're useless'_ so often from the woman you married, you kinda just want someone to tell you're doin' somethin' right, even if you're payin' for them to fake it." he said, his tone loaded. 

"That's understandable." Dr. Nardovino assured. 

Michael's eyes ran over her face and he felt his guard and cruel intentions crumble away. She'd cracked him open again and drained away his hostility, without him even realizing it. He knew he should have hated her for that ability, but somewhere inside he appreciated it. He'd never had anyone in his life who knew how to put the pin back in him in the way she did. "I didn't cheat to hurt her," he confessed, his mood softening with each beat of his heart. "I was just feelin'..."

"Insecure?" 

Michael cut his eyes to hers sharply. Taking a beat to process how she'd tuned into his condition. "That's one way of puttin' it." 

"And are you still feeling that way?" 

"Around my wife? _Yeah!_ " he confessed. "She's been with a hundred different guys, they're all younger, and thinner and..." he paused. "It all just reminds me that all I'm good for is my bank account." 

She looked at him curiously. While she understood how his wife's cheating could have affected him, she struggled to understand how he could be sexually insecure with everything he was. Handsome, rich, charming as the devil. The swagger he had -the cockiness- it all said he should have been confident in every area of his life. With his own list of infidelities it proved that he had no problem getting women into bed, even if he did choose to pay for it more than work for it. She guessed that he possibly felt safer treating sex as a business transaction rather than an emotional connection, and the very idea made her worry even more about the status of their relationship - professional or otherwise. 

"Do you feel that insecurity will drive you to cheat again?" 

Michael knew her question was loaded, but he was no longer sure how to challenge her. Assuming there must have been some ulterior motive for her suddenly aggress foray into his sex life. "Maybe." he gave. "Depends." 

"On what?" she probed and his eyes locked onto hers. Silently goading her into challenging him head on. 

The look he was giving her said all she needed to know, he was thinking of a way to use the conversation as an opportunity to spin her on her head. Take control and make her squirm, as he had a few times before, but she couldn't allow it. 

Knowing the longer the silence went on, the more thinking time he had, she pushed on. "I mean, it's not unusual for men of your age to suffer with varying degrees of erectil-" he started laughing sardonically, cutting her off. She titled her head to one side, looking at him with eyes that seemed to snarl. 

"Listen!" he bit, his anger lighting up. "That was one time!" he held up a finger to illustrate his point. "And I was on medication for this shit." he snapped, tapping his head to reference the issues with his mental health. "I ain't got no problem gettin' it up, _Doc._ My problem's controllin' who I put it in!" 

Her jaw tightened and she looked down at her notepad, fearing she'd stab him with a glare if she didn't cut her eyes away. She knew he wouldn't make it easy for her, but the look on his face made her want to slap him. He was so cocky, almost smug, and she wanted to be disgusted by that side of his character, but the negative sensations wouldn't come. 

She silently cursed Maria for putting the idea to say such things in her head, and tried to steer the conversation away from crashing into the rocks, but her tongue had become coated in acid. "Well, I understand that your social circle is primarily male. Which means in order to cheat in the future, you would have to actively participate in finding a partner. Either with these...." she paused looking for a word to explain the potentially fictional women he'd just told her about. "... _characters_ that you work with, or..." 

He cut in "Or pullin' up on a street corner, or makin' it rain in a strip club?" he said questioned, sarcastically. Having decided if she wanted the ugly truth about his sexual habits, she'd get it - full on. "I bet you got the urge to judge me now, huh Doc?" he snarled, angered by her apparent disbelieve in the stories he'd spun for her. 

She uncrossed her legs and sat up straighter - defiant. "I'm not judging you." she told firmly. "But with a promiscuous wife and a penchant for with sex workers, I should have given you the number of a sexual health clinic, not a marriage therapist." she was fully aware of how grossly unprofessional she was being but something was hurting inside. Breaking through her professional defences and allowing the situation to become more personal than it should ever have been. 

Michael laughed coldly, some small part of him admiring her balls to say such a thing. "My dick ain't gonna fall off any time soon, if that's what you're worried about?" 

Dr. Nardovino just rolled her eyes, she should have known he'd get the better of her and lower the tone. Her tongue tingled with the urge to tell him it would probably a blessing for everyone if his dick did disintegrate, but she swallowed the words down deep. She had to turn things back into a therapy session and not taking pot shots at each other. 

"So what self-control techniques do you plan to implement to prevent any future infidelity?" she asked over the bitterness simmering inside her. 

Michael gave an empty chuckle at her slickness. Every part of him was screaming at him to hit her with everything that had been in his head since he met her. Knock her off her roll and strip away the keen defences that kept getting her the upper hand. 

He felt desperate to tell her about how he'd handled the lack of sex with his wife by fantasising about her. How in every quiet moment he had, his thoughts went to her. What she was doing, who she was with? Wondering if she was thinking about him at the same time. Contemplating if she'd ever touched herself imaging her hands being his, or if she'd ever woken up wet after dreaming of him taking her in all the ways he wanted to. 

Every part of him wanted to leap across the coffee table and fuck the passive-aggressiveness right out of her. Give in to all his wild feelings, and quit with all the dancing around the point. Go to war, once and for all, and broker peace between her thighs, but he couldn't bring himself to hit the launch button. 

Despite everything, he felt like he respected her and he hated the way that seemed to disarm him. Amongst all the wild hunger for her physically there was more, a mental and emotional connection. A fragile bond that seemed to be founded in a sense of awe, that worked as some kind of linchpin to keep his self control in place. Holding him back from doing something crazy and destroying everything that was good between them. Everything that made this relationship truly different from all the others he'd had. 

"I'm exertin' a hell of a lot of self control right now." he said, his voice raspy as frustration strained at his throat. 

"What are you getting at Michael?" she asked outright. Suddenly sick of the toxic cloud of tension sucking the oxygen out of the room. 

Michael's mood darkened again, with the knowledge that he'd pushed some of her buttons. "I dunno, Doc. What are _you_ gettin' at? There's clearly some kind of agenda here." 

"I'm your therapist, Michael. There's no agenda other than trying to hel-" he cut her off. 

"Ah, bullshit!" he dismissed angrily, suddenly tired and aggravated by how she refused to drop the professional act and level with him in the way he needed. 

They were never going to get anywhere in that office. With her sitting there all prim and proper like she was so far above it all. Seeing through his every attempt to break her, outsmarting him, and getting on his last nerve with her ability to unravel him. 

"You have a lot of anger, Michael." she told him, hanging on to the bucking bronco that was the current situation and riding like a pro. "And anger is a by-product of fear. So perhaps we should try and get to the root cause of that. I'd like to know what you're afraid of, so we can-" 

He cut her off with a burst of anger, suddenly furious that she'd changed the pace again - he could barely keep up. "I ain't afra-" he stopped short, stretching his neck feeling the anger inside him sloshing around, sizzling like melted fat in a frying pan. 

He looked at her deeply, her eyes were firm but he could see the concern she had, the nervousness underneath the cool exterior that she tried to make seem so powerful. Something about that look back at him undid him all over again, and he fell apart at her feet. 

"I'm afraid of everythin'." he admitted carelessly, unable to restrain himself now deeply hidden emotions had been provoked. "All the shit I can't control and don't understand." he paused for a moment, looking in on himself once more. His mind quickly summarizing over everything he'd felt that morning, and all he'd realized over recent weeks, and in all the years passed. All the things that he'd suppressed just to survive life in hiding, so many things that spun him out and tied him up in knots. "I'm afraid of constantly fuckin' up....being so desperate to be happy that I'm foolin' myself into believin' in and chasin' after shit that ain't even real." he told her, looking away. Afraid he free running mouth would reveal that he was talking about her and little nothing else. 

His eyes found focus back on their usual spot on the coffee table and that stupid slip of paper that seemed to slice through his skin. Reminding him of all he had away from her, a wife and two kids. Responsibilities. Money in the bank -security- everything he ever thought he needed to fulfil him, that instead left him empty inside. So many things that he'd chased, that had come at such a high cost which he continued to pay for in suffering. 

He suddenly felt restless and stood up, forcing more of his outburst to come gushing forth. "I know I gotta be happy with what I got, that I need to settle for it..." he continued, starting to pace. "But at the same time, I'm afraid I'll never know what it's like to feel like they do in the movies, to have that perfect happiness bullshit, to never have a life I'm really proud of." he confessed his back to her, talking so candidly it was as if he didn't know someone was listening to his every word. "I'm afraid of being fuckin' average and forgotten about....I know I ain't nothin' more than a cash cow to people around me, the ones who are supposed to give a shit, and I'm afraid of that...being nothin' to no one." he blurted out, his voice almost cracking as pent up emotions all rushed to escape his lips. "I'm afraid growin' old and still chasin' the wrong things. Gettin' hurt, tryin' to do the _right thing_ and fuckin' things up worse than I already have all over again." he exclaimed, throwing out his arms. "I'm afraid of being a lonely old fucker who gets left behind and forgotten about because he wasn't worth shit to anyone in the first place. I'm afraid of livin' a life I fuckin' hate but being too afraid to actually fuckin' make a change.... 'Cause I know my track record is nothin' but a series of fuckin' horrible mistakes and regrets. Choices I wish I'd made, ones I wish I fuckin' _hadn't!_ " he clenched his fist, as if he was trying to get a hold of himself, but he couldn't stop. "I'm afraid of being trapped in this cycle forever, and havin' no one around who really gives a shit enough to help me break it. Livin' the rest of my life with the wrong kind of people 'cause that's all I fuckin' deserve." he added.

Dr. Nardovino opened her mouth to calm him, or maybe to preach, she wasn't sure. He was giving her so much to work with but he didn't allow her the privilege of speaking her own mind, to put his at rest. She'd popped the cork on long bottled up emotions, things he'd wilfully tried to ignore for years, and there was no stopping the flow. She'd exposed a nerve that had needed to scream out in pain for a very long time. 

"You know how many people showed up to my funeral?" he asked out turning back to her. His mind pulling in a dozen different directions. Working overtime as he stood there surrounded by all the fears he'd just shucked for her. 

Dr. Nardovino gently shook her head, bewildered by everything he'd revealed to her. She could feel emotional swelling in her chest, pulling her towards him more strongly than ever before. "No..." she said almost a whisper as something inside her ached for him. She could feel his pain, she understood it, and she wished for a clue on how to soothe him. 

" _Five!_ Five fuckin' people! I mean, I know it wasn't really my funeral 'n all, but it was in the newspaper, people knew when it was happenin' and four fuckin' people showed up. My wife and her folks, and my older sister...who I hadn't seen over twenty-five fuckin' years, since she ran off with some asshole boyfriend when I was just a kid. And she shows up with new some guy I'd never met." he threw his arms around angrily, revealing so much of his past that had been previously unknown and never mentioned within his clinical notes. "Four fuckin' people, for thirty-nine years of life and four fuckin' people show up." he told bitterly. "It's fuckin' pathetic!" he hissed. "And that's what I'm afraid of...." he told her, stabbing his finger at her. "Goin' to my grave...for real this time...havin' no one there to give a fuck, 'cause I've pushed 'em all away and made 'em hate me." he revealed, angry at himself more than those in his life. "I ain't afraid of dying, I couldn't give a fuck, but I _am_ afraid of livin' what life I got left feelin' fuckin' empty and lonely, being fuckin' nothing." he stopped for a beat and looked at her deeply, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe he was saying such things to her, he didn't know where it was all coming from. Deeply hidden fears had been exposed to the light and were making a panicked rush for freedom.

"I'm afraid that the one time I feel like I've maybe found someone who could be the one I've been lookin', could make me feel like I wanna feel....she-" something yanked back on the leash he was running away with, stopping him from over indulging. "That _they_ are just some kind of fuckin' trickster, makin' me believe they give a shit when the only reason they do care is 'cause I'm payin' 'em too.... just like everyone fuckin' else around me!" he spat out, throwing up his hands in defeat. 

"I'm sure that's not true." she offered, feeling emotion welling within her. An almost overwhelming urge filled her, compelling her to go to him, to touch him, to tell him he was wrong, but her legs were stone. Glued to the chair. 

"Yeh, it is! My kids only want me for money, and they hate me because I want them to do somethin' with their lives, so they don't end up feelin' worthless like I do. My wife can't stand me for a hundred different reasons but sticks around because spending my money makes living with me bearable! The only friends I got are people who use me to make 'em money or do their friggin' dirty work." he realized. "And you know, I think sometimes that all the money I got stashed away don't mean dick, 'cause I ain't worth shit to anyone, not really...." he said, that..." he told her firmly. "But I..." he hesitated, feeling foolish for revealing so much to her, when strangely coldly, like he didn't doubt the reasons why that was so. "And don't fuckin' start - a'right?" he barked, blindly pointing an accusing finger at her. "I know I don't deserve to be happy, 'cause I'm a fuckin' asshole. I've hurt way too many people and fucked over anyone everyone who mighta cared about me once, so I made my bed, I know that!" he bit, his intentions were not to spend another session bleeding out on her office floor and he had to do something to mop up the pools of his soul. "But is it wrong to feel like I'm worth somethin' more than what I got? Is it wrong to want to be happy with someone who gives a shit?" he asked, gesturing to her like he wanted confirmation, but before the doctor could speak out, another thought jumped into his head and snatched the microphone. "And fuckin' Trevor, right? Jesus Christ! Few months back, he fuckin' kidnaps this woman..."

"Kidnapped?" Dr. Nardovino cried out, barely clinging onto the speeding train full of his confessions. 

"Yeah, don't worry about it...she's fine!" he waved his hand dismissively, wanting to get to the finer point he needed to voice. "This woman, right? He ties her up and throws her in the back of a car, makes her live in his fuckin' shithole trailer in the middle of the Goddamn desert, and she ends up fallin' in love with him, for fuck sake! Can you believe that?" he asked rhetorically. "He kidnaps her, takes her from a big fancy ass house in the country to this roach infested shit-pit in the desert and she wakes up one morning 'n thinks the sun shines outta his ass." he cried. "And here's me...throwin' money at my wife, and my kids, selling my fuckin' soul to get them a better life, to make 'em like me. Doin' fucked up shit to keep 'em happy and safe, making so many fuckin' sacrifices for 'em, and nothin' I do is good enough. They still hate me!" he barked out. 

Dr. Nardovino opened her mouth to speak, but again she couldn't get a word in before he continued. "And all the time I was out there with him and her, I was thinkin' how the fuck is it that this guy...this fuckin' drug addicted, cannibalistic, fuckin' nutcase of a guy, finds a woman to love him for who he is, but I can't even get my wife to look me in the fuckin' eye!...My wife who was pimped out by her own fuckin' mother, who I took out of a shitty trailer park in a fuckin' icebox state, and put her in a big house where she don't have to life a fuckin' finger. Gave her more money than she knows what to do with, and all she does is cheat on me. And when we try to make it work, it just fails time and time again because there's too much hate there already. My kids are ungrateful, entitled little shits who don't wanna do anything with their lives but take from me, and I don't know where the fuck I went wrong!" he barked, his arms moving wildly. "And just when I think I know how to make things right for myself, when I meet someone that I think could actually understand me, and care about me, someone that I think I connect with, it turns out they're full'a shit too!" 

Dr. Nardovino felt a pain in her chest that stole her voice away. She knew he was talking about her, and she wanted to level with him, give him some kind of human response, but she's spent too long programming herself to hold him at a distance to let him in. She knew he needed comforting, to be steered away from the edge, but she'd been blindsided by his truths and couldn't find her feet. Her defences had clicked into place to hold her back from reassuring him, preventing her from confessing that she was the person he thought her to be, because she knew just how wrong it would be to confirm such a thing to a man like him. 

"Michael, I...." she hesitated; her default therapist mode taking over to prevent her true feelings exploiting a kink in her armour. In her moment of confusion and weakness, her survival instincts took over and her original plan to place boundaries between them came racing to the surface. "There are clearly a lot of things that you need work on with your family. You need to concentrate on repairing things with your them, and building the kind of relationships you want with the people you already have in your life. You can't make someone love you with money, or force and searching for something new isn't going to solve the issues you have..." she stopped a little abruptly, unsure of what she was saying. Afraid of rambling and revealing her true mindset on the matter. 

Michael opened his mouth to speak angrily, but stopped himself. The words she spoke hurt and frustrated him further. He knew that she was aware of how he talking about their relationship and the way she brushed him off so effortlessly stung worse than he imagined it could. 

He shook his head angrily, and turned away from her again. He'd been around the block enough times to know when someone was telling him no, and it hurt him at his core. He'd been brutally honest with her about what was going on in his head, and still she shut him out and denied him. Worst of all he couldn't be sure if her reaction was genuine, or just another page ripped from a psychologists handbook, but either way it was clear - she, like everyone else, didn't want him. 

"The hours about up now isn't it?" he asked lowly. Knowing they still had plenty of time, but wanting to escape, all while hoping to put it to her that she was off the clock too. As some part of him believed that would allow her to drop the professionalism and let the woman who spoke her mind, out of the cage she'd locked her away in. If time was running out for them, maybe it would spur her on. Let her be honest too, so they could really clear the air and address what the hell was going on between them directly, and not dancing around the point via talk of his friends and family. 

Dr. Nardovino was fading fast, as Cassidy tried to break through to him. She'd lost control over the session and almost herself. His words had played to her true heart and it too all she had to hold herself back. The outpouring of his heart was too much to handle in that moment, her head felt too full to find one exact clear thought, and her jaw locked in the fear of saying the wrong thing. 

There was so much she needed to discuss with him, so much to help him work though. He'd bared his soul to her, showed just how lonely he really was underneath it all, but she was afraid of the emotion inside her. Worried that if she let herself react to him in the way she wished she could, the instinctive -human- way, she would do irreversible damage to both their lives. 

"You're free to go at any time." her mouth spoke without instruction, unknowingly hurting him further. Her eyes stared into nothingness, barely realizing she was talking until the words had escaped. "But before you go, we need to discuss payment." she bit her tongue. Suddenly realizing how inappropriate her impulsive words were, given what he'd just told her about the money to love ratio in his life. 

Her words came like a punch to the gut, dropping him to earth with a heavy bump. Reminding him harshly of what he'd almost forgotten - she was just yet another face he was paying to spend time with him. Throwing money at someone to pay him attention, and make him feel like he mattered for a moment or two. 

He felt his stomach turn with the reminder that they weren't potential lovers, playing hard ball. Making each other work for it. She was a professional he was paying money to listen to him complain about life and problems, and just like everyone else around him -even in the wake of him sharing his deepest fears with her- it still boiled down to money. 

"I'm sorry to mention it now." she offered desperately, her stomach sinking at the sight of his expression. "But we've had quite a few sessions now," she scrambled to explain herself and her appalling timing. "and I've tried charging your insurance a couple of times and it's failed, so I had to ask how you plan to pay for your sessions?" she gave, hating every word from her foolish mouth. All the things she'd been planning to do and say to him had seen a chance to strike through her emotional distraction, to create a definitive divide between them once and for all. She hated it. Feeling like each movement of her lips bruised him more. Crushing the tiny delicate seedling that was their relationship to dust, but she couldn't stop herself. 

Her sudden spin into business had winded him, just as his honesty had weakened her and he felt a pit open in his stomach. He'd come there that morning to level with her, to reveal everything he held inside for her and her alone. He'd had no intentions of confessing his darkest thoughts and fears to her again. Yet somehow, just as she always did, she'd sidetracked him, wormed her way inside his head and forced out everything he'd been ignoring for so long. He'd poured his heart out to her - _again_ \- and with one single sentence she'd stabbed him in the back with a dagger forged of his fears. Stealing away any hope he had left of making something of their connection that seemed to offer so much. 

"Insurance ran out..." he forced out, his voice gruffer than usual, holding back a torrent of emotion in his wounded state. "I ain't gotten around to reinstatin' it yet." he told, looking down at her with a throbbing in his chest and a pressure on his back. Anger and hurt jostled inside him, one wanting to make him lash out at her - to scream or throw something, as another part pushed him to run away and lick his wounds. "Send me an invoice, and I'll cut ya a cheque." he let out harshly, cold in his disappointment. 

With that something kicked at his back, and he broke free of her sorrowful gaze. Marching over to the door and throwing open it open to stride straight out back into the world. Slamming it closed behind him, for what would likely be the last time. 

Leaving her alone in his slipstream of angst and regret. Her stomach twisting with regret and a burning sensation in her eyes."Fuck!" she whimpered into the silence of the office as the dam inside her that kept all the emotions back cracked. 

She felt a push inside her to go after him, get him to come back so they could talk properly. So she could help him heal, and be honest with him, but deep down she knew she'd unconsciously sabotaged their relationship to save herself. Some misguided attempt to protect him from making a mistake with her, spurred on by his words of need and expectations that she'd never be able to live up to for him. 

She tossed her notepad on the coffee table and leant forwards, putting her head in her hands, giving out a heavy, almost tearful sigh. She'd allowed him to take over the session -and her mind- with his nonsense which had pressured her into being too harsh with him again, which in turn lead to her unravelling him once more. Nothing had gone as she'd planned, or as she'd hoped and her timing for mentioning payment was terrible. She didn't understand why she'd done it, how the words had come from her mouth, but she knew she'd done more harm than good to him. Hurting him when he was at his most vulnerable, but a voice inside her head told her it was for the best. 

Whatever was going on between them had disaster written all over it. He was looking to her as the answer to all his problems, and she knew she'd never be that to him. Yet it was becoming ever more apparent that even though she felt he had the capacity to save her, it seemed that he was the one who truly needed to be saved. 

She swallowed hard, wishing the tears in her eyes away. Aware that she couldn't rescue him in the way he clearly needed. Knowing just how terribly she'd handled the whole session and fearing what long term damage she could have done to his mental health with her carelessness. He'd revealed too much to her during their time together, and the lines had become too blurred for her to see a way clear to handling him with a professional distance, and she'd blown it, that much was clear. 

Yet perhaps -in some twisted way- she'd done the right thing. She'd shown him that their relationship was just business, that she was just like all the other's in his life. That she didn't offer a key to the promise land he was searching for. 

They were oil and water, they'd mix well together for a while, and then separate - of that she was sure. Gun powder and fire, each dangerous to the other. Too similar and too different at the same time, to ever be right for one another. They'd just keep on playing silly games, too stunted by their own fears of failure to be honest. Hurting each other, until there was nothing left. 

Men like him didn't change, she'd learned that much on her career path. He'd always be a bad man, a cheater, a liar - someone she shouldn't trust. And even if she did understand him -and he her- understanding wasn't what he needed. It was clear from his confessions of fear that what he really wanted was someone to worship him, warts and all. Someone who would be grateful to his every generosity, blindly allowing him to justify his actions with their gratitude to him for being the big, rich hero. She couldn't be that person, she didn't want that kind of life. She couldn't be the person he needed, professionally or otherwise. 

He was going to need to find a new therapist, for both their sakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I hope that wasn't too much of a heavy read, but a lot of things needed to be said and done to open into the next act, where the shit is really going to hit the fan. So I hope you enjoyed it, and as always I would love to hear what you think. Your comments and support mean the world to me, and keep me pushing to get this story out of my head and onto the screen. Thanks for reading!


	21. Days Go By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who left me feedback and kudos on the last chapter, you guys are the absolute best! Your continual words of love and support keep pushing me on with this story and make all the hard work worthwhile. You're the best readers a girl could have. Hope you all enjoy the chapter! :o)

_I will dive into my sleep,_  
_And I dream of the pretty buildings._  
_Wonder what she's doing now,_  
_And whether she's still living._

_Telegraph your points of view,_  
_And Sheppard me from silence._  
_Sitting in this fit of rage,_  
_I fall down from my pedestal._

_I don't wanna feel this low again._  
_I ain't gonna steal your flame again._  
_I don't wanna feel..._

_Cause you know it hurts like hell!_  
_So come out of the closet,_  
_Let's talk about it._  
_Cause you know it hurts like hell!_  
_But that's you in a nutshell._

**\-- Pretty Buildings by People On Planes**

Upon walking out of his therapists office on Thursday morning, Michael was convinced he never wanted to cross paths with Doctor Cassidy Nardovino ever again. He had stormed furiously out of the building and back to his car, speeding out of the parking lot as quickly as he could, almost crashing into another vehicle as he went. 

The pedestrians of Los Santos had seemed to sense that fury was on the road, and had kept clear of the streets as he zipped his way across town, heading straight for home with the electricity of a thousand thunderstorms crashing around in his head. 

His mind was made up - he had to get away from her. Not just physically but on every imaginable level, and for good. She was bad for him, that much had been made clear. She was just like the rest with her demands for money, making him feel like his only value was his bank account. She knew exactly how to push his buttons to bring out the worst of him, and the way she refused to acknowledge what was unmistakably going on between them drove him insane. Everything about her drove him to the edge of sanity and he didn't need another incendiary person in his life who tested every resolve he had. 

He'd been stupid for exposing himself to her the way he had, _continually_. Bitterness and regret for letting his mouth run free, sat caustically in his chest. Potent, mixed emotions forming like an indigestion from his overindulgence in honesty. He should never have trusted her with knowing what went on in his mind. He should never have believed his intuition that said she was so much more than a paid ear. 

As he drove home, everything in his head assembled to insist that he look for another therapist. Advising him to do what she'd told him all along and stop chasing after trouble. To make a choice to stop the runaway train he was on in its tracks, settle for what he had and quit fucking everything up by chasing pipe dreams. 

She was no good for him, she never could be. Not when she was so much like all the others in his life, and what hurt the most was knowing he'd been a fool to dream otherwise. There was genuine no bond, or deep intrinsic understanding between them. He knew now it was all just smoke and mirrors - a masquerade to distract from how she was ultimately just profiting on his misery. 

The moment he walked into the house, the thunder clouds around his head grew darker, crackling with lightening as he felt the muscles in his neck and shoulders tense tighter than he could bare. The sensation warned that his already short fuse had been reduced to little more than a stub that was quickly fizzling to ash. The walls came in closer than ever before, bringing the ceiling down on his head, and sending him rushing straight to the kitchen for the one thing he could trust in - _whiskey_. 

As he drank the house came to life around him with another petty squabble, one more request for money, and nag about his attitude. Every word out of the mouths of his wife or children, each muttered tut and slamming door seemed to goad him ever closer into acting out.

His body and mind felt weak with the affects of the deepest disappointment and confusion, making it ever harder to keep the temperature even under his anger. He struggled to push back against the wall of the worries and fears he'd let rise during therapy and even the whiskey wouldn't wash away the bitter taste of regret on his lips. 

He hated how much of himself he'd revealed to her. How she had undone him, time and time again. Releasing the cork on everything he'd kept bottled up for so many years. Bringing all his darkest concerns into the light she cast on him. Cutting free every worry and doubt he ever had with her trickery, and letting them run loose around his cluttered head. Turning him into a blubbering wreck, with verbal diarrhoea, who couldn't seem to keep a secret to himself in the four walls of that lifeless beige office. 

He sulked his way into the living room, taking root on the couch and wishing for doors that he could close on all the sounds around him that lured the dark rage within him forward. Wishing for complete silence and peace as he sank another whiskey and thought back to Friedlander. Trying to recall the breathing techniques that bastard had given him to help control himself when he was at his worst. Reminding himself of how his former therapist had betrayed him too, how their professional relationship had ended bloodily on the train tracks just outside of town. 

He shook the dark imagery out of his head, and took some deep breaths, but he'd barely inhaled two lung full's of air before his phone began to chirp in the pocket of his jacket. He put his whiskey down and reached inside to find Dr. Nardovino's parting shot had been fired. 

As if to add insult to injury, an email had arrived for him. The words he read were detached and professional, addressing him coldly as Mr De Santa. Sending a rush of fire through his stomach, making his jaw tense, and his neck stretch in anger. His hand tightened on his phone -knuckles white- as if he wanted to crush it into a fine powder. 

The negative voice inside that had spoken so loudly that morning, took the stage again. Venomously reminding him of how he'd read everything wrong between them. Reiterating how he was just another appointment in her diary, a way to pay for her beach house and rental car. 

His stomach twisted with anger as he glared at the phone screen clenched in his fist. Warring with himself over whether he should call and chew her out, or delete the email all together and never think of her again. However his eyes, managed to focus though the thin veil of offence to notice the finer details of the words she'd sent him. 

She had clearly listed all the dates and charges for the sessions he hadn't paid for, and as he scanned them the haze over his eyes cleared. Something buried under his anger niggled at him; a flame sparking again within the fading embers of his hope to find the clue in what she'd sent. 

He looked once, then twice, then three times, but he still couldn't see a charge for the times he'd shown up at her house, or that one Monday morning he'd appeared at her office marked with blood. She had every right to charge him, and he knew it, but she had resisted. A gesture that made the weak flame within him grow brighter, to begin burning away the rot that had set in at his stomach. 

He looked inside himself, and still saw the redness of his anger, but he realized at the sight of her words that he had not right to feel the way he did. Her timing was terrible -there was no denying that- but he was the one in the wrong for allowing her to work so long without payment. To let her take on all his troubles without anything in return. 

As his eyes scanned the list again, he felt a strange sensation of forgiveness float up and blanket coolly over the acidic burn in his chest. The thunder clouds in his head lifted a little, allowing some light to break through, bringing a tiny dose of clarity and calm back to his troubled mind. 

He knew it must have gone against professional advisement to do so, but it was a gesture that meant something to him. It gave him a flawed sense of hope, that maybe things between them weren't as ruined as he first thought. That maybe she wasn't as much like the other people around him as he'd quickly assumed. Her choice to give him her time for free was evidence enough to him that made the negative thoughts in his head fall deathly quiet for a moment. However, when he noticed how the email ended, the brief pause in his anger came to an abrupt end. 

Under the list of therapy dates was a short, straight-to-the-point note. The name, telephone number and email address of a new therapist was there staring back at him. All the information he'd left behind on that stupid slip of paper on her coffee table. The information that had been sort out for him as an attempt to save his doomed marriage. 

A growl rumbled in his chest and he threw his phone angry onto the couch and scrubbed his stubbled face with his hands. More mixed messages flooded his head. More confused and chaotic thoughts scrambling to find explanations for what everything meant, and where to place blame for how fucked up things were. 

He got up from the couch and began to pace the living room, as one side of his head pulled him towards forgiving her, with the other dragged him deeper down into the darkness that wanted to push all thoughts of her away forever. To deny that he'd ever met the woman that seemed to promise him that all was not lost. That she could give him all the things he'd been promised by the movies he'd seen. 

That night he drank himself into a stupor, confused and torn. Unable to find an escape from the noise in his head now that the happy place he'd gone to with her had become tainted. He could find no solace apart from what came in the form of an amber coloured liquid, that anesthetized his thoughts and emotions just enough to survive the night. 

Whiskey induced a restless sleep where he dreamt about her, just as he had so many nights before. He saw himself swimming with her in the middle of the ocean, in the sun setting around them and no land in sight. She was smiling in his arms and even in sleep her felt the warmth of happiness, but before he could kiss her the skies darkened and the waters became choppy. There was no sound at all, even when it began to rain around them, the only sound he heard was her panicked cry as the dark water dragged her under the waves. 

The sound in his head jolted him awake, launching him into Friday in a cold sweat and with a pounding headache that would haunt him all day, as would her scream. 

Tired and groggy, he knocked back the half glass of whiskey he had left from the night before for breakfast and dragged himself upstairs to shower. Letting the hot water soothe his head a little as his chest continued to throb with a cocktail of conflicting emotions. 

He left the house without a word to anyone, and drove straight to the studio where he knew a string of duties were waiting for him. Plenty to keep him occupied and distracted from thoughts of her. People he could yell at, and take his anger out on. Ways to stop himself focusing on how fucked up things were, and the cold he felt in the shadows of the death of hope. 

All through Friday he carried a heavy weight on his shoulders, and a thumping pain in his head. He couldn't shake the haunted feeling the dream had left him with, worrying that it meant something more. Fighting the desire to go to her, while the negativity inside him refused to let him concern himself with _her_ wellbeing and made him selfishly focus on his own. 

However, throughout the day, the more he tried to forget about her, the more everything he saw reminded him. Lyrics he heard on the radio felt like they were being sung about him and her, the script being played out on a stage at the studio seemed to mirror their relationship. Seemingly random words like "acquired" trigged thoughts of their times together and the things she'd said to him. Even standing near craft services bought a thought of her to his head as one of the staffers mentioned a craving for peanut butter, and his mind whipped back to their moment on the beach when he'd invited her to dinner. So many previously insignificant things seemed to cause visions of her to blossom in front of his eyes, sending her voice echoing around his head. 

He couldn't shake her from his mind. His thoughts drifting to the ways she filled him with desire just with how she dressed and the looks she gave him, to how uncomfortable he got when she saw through him. How she frustrated him with her clever avoidance and that incredible draw he felt pulling him to her since the moment their eyes first met. 

His anger still simmered bitterly, of course. His stubborn bold in its refusal to let thoughts of her work him over again. Yet with each second that passed his wounded heart healed a little more, finding its voice to faintly whisper the one thing he knew to be true above all others, a faint call that his anger kept trying to speak over, with ever decreasing success. 

That night he repeated the same process as he had the night before. Barely a word spoken to his family beneath a heavy atmosphere of animosity. Another bottle of whiskey rocking him to sleep on the couch again, but that night no dreams came and deep sleep found him easily. 

On Saturday morning, he woke troubled once again but the load on his shoulders felt inexplicably lighter. He didn't feel as angry, but he didn't feel too positive either. He guessed a decent night's sleep had helped his mind repair a little of the damage, giving him the feeling that he needed a breath of fresh air to clear away the cobwebs. 

Deciding to head to the pier before it got busy, he quietly made some toast, and quickly chased it with a cup of lukewarm coffee before slipping out of the house just as his family began to stir. The sun was full in the sky and the roads were light on traffic, which kept his stress levels even long enough to make it to Vesspucci, park up in the lot and amble his way down to the very end of the pier. He'd told himself he'd only stay for an hour, that he needed to be doing something more productive than wallowing in his emotions, but as soon as he sat down on the bench looking out to sea, time melted away. 

He lazed there on the bench just staring at the water for hours, as the world around him came to life without him realizing. Music began playing over the loud speakers, vendors opened up shop, while locals and tourists came out to spend their Saturday by the shore. 

He lost himself in watching the ocean that he loved so much, but didn't help to soothe him, in fact it just encourage the residual chill from the dream he'd had about Cassidy to stir. He had hoped the sight of the waves would give him some clarity, a little strength to move passed what he was feeling, but all it seemed to do was muffle the noise in his head, making it harder to find a single thought that confirmed what he really felt about the situation, or what he _thought_ he should feel. 

With the fogginess of incompatible thoughts messing with his head and with so much tugging at his heart, he couldn't help but find himself looking back on his life. His thoughts going to all the mistakes he'd made in his time. How he'd made the decision to sacrifice a life to better his own. How many nights he stayed awake wondering if he was doing the right thing, confused and guilty about his actions and the choices that awaited him. Remembering everything he'd lost in the snow, and the things he'd lost under the sun too. 

He hated feeling so burdened and wished he could bury his head, it was always the perfect cure but _she_ had stolen away all the sand. There was nowhere to hide from his demons anymore, and the thoughts of his many wrongs and regrets. How he'd sold his soul for a life free of stress and worries, which had only turned into the same nightmare he left behind. Making him repeat the same mistakes all over again, under the glare of the sun rather than a blanket of snow. 

Only this time there was no FIB agent to turn to, no one to convince him to make a deal to save himself. No one telling him was doing the right thing, no one to guide him onto a path and push him into walking. Nobody to blame for the mess he was in. Nobody, but himself. 

Feeling that the water only seemed to trigger memories and emotions than he cared to acknowledge, he left the pier as the stores and stands were closing up. He got back into his car and pointed it in the direction of the nearest branch of Bean Machine. Hoping that a good solid injection of hot caffeine would help shift the clouds from around his head. He got served quickly, by a pretty blonde woman who's smile lifted his mood a little, but on his return to the car he got in too fast, splashing black coffee across the steering wheel and center console. 

"Fuck!" he barked, quickly reaching over to the glovebox. Popping it open and searching blindly for a wad of Burger Shot napkins he kept in there, as he struggled to jam the coffee cup into the holder. "Goddamnit!" he hissed out again, unable to find the tissues without the use of his sight. 

Angrily, he turned his attention to what his hands were fumbling with, and suddenly all thoughts of cleaning the spillage went from his head. Looking back at him was an empty bottle of water - the one she'd given him at the beach a few days earlier. 

A strange emotion skittered through him as he walked his fingers to it, and picked it out, bringing it into the muted sunlight. A rush of memories came flooding back, filling him with all the sensations he'd felt from his time with her that day, and inside the tiny flame of hope that was almost dying in his darkness felt a breath of life again. 

Positivity washed through him, making him feel that all was not as lost as he'd thought. What he'd felt that day on the sand was too strong to mean nothing, or to just be part of the process of therapy. It couldn't have been a con he'd allowed himself to believe either, he was too shrewd to fall for that. He knew a performance when he saw one -his career had depended on reading people- and what he'd seen and felt from her was real. He known it all along, and he was sure she knew it too. 

He was reminded of how he found such comfort with her, and comfort was something he'd forgotten he was capable of feeling. With his ill gotten gains he'd been able to buy security -a little slice of peace-of-mind- but comfort itself had alluded him, until he met her. 

The way she made him open up, how he felt like he could talk to her about anything, and she'd understand - it was priceless to him. The fact he hadn't paid for a single moment of her company seemed to prove that comfort and understanding didn't need to be purchased with the right person. 

He turned his mind inward to the negativity that had previously found such a loud voice. Hoping to bring himself back down to earth with a harsh reminder that she wasn't a friend, or some cute bar tender, or a stripper, that he could spill his guts to and have his way with. Some temporary plaything that helped ease the tension he lived under at home. She wasn't just a disconnected interaction that bought a physical release, which allowed him to escape long enough to regenerate the strength to carry on living under a sunk-cost fallacy at home. He couldn't find a way to deny that she was so much more to him than other women had been, more than just a device to help him keep on living in the prison he'd built for himself. 

What he felt for her was something real and it seemed as if it could become solid, and turn into so more than he'd ever had before. There was no booze to mislead him with her, no drunken thoughts or simmering anger pushing him into her arms. Whatever was between them had been born on healthy ground, and even if she was a paid professional like the other women he'd taken himself to, she had never acted like it. She'd shown no other agenda than to help him figure himself and his life out.

Of course he knew that like the strippers and cute bartenders he seduced, she was someone idiots like him probably fell in love with all the time, merely because they looked like they were interested in problems no one else wanted to hear. He was sure she'd seen a dozen men like him, all trying to lead her astray or get inside her head so they could hide themselves away from their own problems. Yet she'd always managed to guide and understand him in a way no one else ever had. Their relationship had to mean something more than what it did on paper. 

He knew it was dangerous to let the truth of what she really was to him slip from his mind, but even if there was no way for her to be with him in the way he dreamed of, he felt that he couldn't stand the thought of not having her there in his life. 

If he went on without he was sure another hole would form in his life, one that couldn't be filled by anyone else. She'd shown him too much, made him feel too many things. She'd had him believing that he was capable of experiencing things he'd given up hope of. There had to be a way to clear the air, and bring their relationship back from the brink, to secure her place in his life again. 

He had to know she was still there for him, in some way, _any_ way. If that meant he had to dive overboard with her, or resolve to keep his distance, then he would. He had lived inside his head for almost ten years as he lay wasting by his pool, and a big enough part of him believed he could continue to do so forever, as long as he had her to turn to, and a place in his mind to escape to with thoughts of her. If they could only be together in his imagination, that would have to be enough. He'd learn to make do, he had before. Just as long as she was there for him, listening and understanding, making him feel like he wasn't the bastard he knew himself to be, he'd do whatever it took. 

As the sun sank lower into the horizon, he was quickly becoming convinced he could cope with any outcome, and that he had to do something to secure her back in his life again as quickly as possible. He knew he could forgive her for speaking out of turn, having become aware that she hadn't intended to hurt him. She'd bruised his pride with her clumsy words, and the mouthy hipster outside her office had planted doubt in his mind, but he was getting over it. Far quicker than he imagined he would. 

Even if his hope for something more for her had been spoiled and he knew it was foolish to allow himself to piece it back together, he was certain he needed her in his life, in whatever capacity she was comfortable with. Just knowing she was there for him, even just once a week would be enough to keep him afloat. Even if his fantasies could never be actualized, he could manage as long as he got to see her and feel the warmth and understanding she held for him. 

All the warning signs clearly told him he was kidding himself, that he was again trying to ignore the worst of the situation to survive, just as he did at home. Common sense should have told him to stay away for good, that he was kidding himself to think he could settle for anything less than he dreamed of. A part of himself demanded that he wake up and get over her, move on with his life. Love his family and be the good man he wish he could be, but he knew of course, that he wasn't a good man. _He never would be._ Deep inside he knew life would maybe be easier if he stopped trying to kid himself into believing he could be ever redeemed.

He was weary of denying himself the things he craved ensure he stayed living low, as a way to prevent himself ruining everything he strived for and held dear. He'd made enough mistakes in his years to know when one was coming, and despite his underlying apprehensions, he knew that to let her go had all the hallmarks of something he'd live to regret. Even if he couldn't guarantee how things would go, or even if he'd make it to next week without needing to pull her into his life as more than a therapist, he had to find a way to confirm she would be there for him, in spite of everything. 

He knew then that he had to go to her, to patch things up somehow. Show her he was going to be a good patient, stay in his lane, not play games anymore and pay his bills. He'd cooperate with her better, play his role however she wanted him to for a while longer -forever if necessary- as long as it took to earn her trust and to see if something could blossom from him showing her how good he could be. 

He needed someone like her, he knew that much. If she could only be the understanding ear, a form of guidance and a shoulder to cry on, then he'd learn to accept that. He knew he'd eventually come to understand and acknowledge her limitations if he gave it time. If he made a point to keep reminding himself that she was paid to care for him, then he wouldn't fall back into bad habits of playing with her. Trying to tease out information or reaction with provocative words and information. He'd let her be his therapist, in the hope that she'd come to trust him enough to reveal herself to him in return, and that it would all somehow evolve to become what he dreamed of. 

If it took a regular payment and a little more self control to maintain the connection he felt to her, that's what he'd give. It was nothing he wasn't used to afterall, he'd spent his whole life paying for people to care about him, with one currency or another.

With determination to make things right, and to settle for only what he was allowed to have, he quickly headed home. He didn't stop to call out to his family as he entered the house, he just headed straight upstairs to change out of his shorts and into his favourite blue jeans and a grey v-neck t-shirt. 

Arming himself with a carefully written cheque tucked securely in his pocket, and a sense of purpose in his chest, left the house without a word to anyone and jumped back into his car to get out to Chumash as quickly as he could. He feared if he stopped any longer to think things over more, he'd start talking himself out of his decision, by letting his need to actualize his fantasies get the better of him, or worse - letting his anger wrestle free from where his hope and determination had pinned it to the floor of his gut. 

He knew he would instantly be off on the wrong foot by showing up at her home again, but he hoped that maybe they could clear the air if he caught her unarmed. If he was going to fix things for himself, he had to see Cassidy - not the aloof psychologists costume she wore. 

As he drove, it troubled him to consider that they both needed some more time to let the dust settle, after everything that had been said and felt in her office, but he was certain letting any more time pass between them would be a big mistake. 

He remembered all the anxiety he'd felt after going fourteen days without seeing her when they'd first met, and he knew it would only make things harder between them if he let their problems fester. The gap between them would widen, too far for a bridge to cross, and he knew as well as anyone how hard it was to undo damage that had been left unrepaired too long. 

He had to get to her, consequences be damned. He need to find some way to get them back on track and paint over the damage they'd done by getting too personal and allowing their feelings and clumsy words to compromise their place in each other's lives. 

He didn't need to think about the drive, his car seemed to know the route well enough by itself. The early evening traffic was minimal and it took no time at all to reach her place. Pulling up on the drive besides her car and killing the engine, refusing to pause for a moment, knowing he'd talk himself out of the plan of action he'd decided upon. 

He got out of the car quickly and headed over to her front door with a familiar determination nipping at his heels, but before he reached it, her front door popped open and she sashayed out, letting the door fall shut behind her as if to punctuate the way their eyes locked on each other. 

Shock clear in her gaze, while his turned heavy with lust. 

She looked unlike he'd ever seen before. Her hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders in thick, beachy curls. He'd imagined what she'd look like with her hair down many times, but until then she hadn't given him the privilege of seeing it for real. Even with all the visualizing he'd done, nothing had properly prepared him for just how beautiful she looked with the sunset oranges playing in her dark locks. 

Her make-up was heavier than he'd ever seen it before, smoky eye-shadow and bold black eyeliner paired with dark pink lips. She was dressed far sexier too, in a stretchy black off-shoulder dress that finished several inches above the knee. Accessorized with more jewellery than he realized she owned - a long sliver necklace, with a row of rings on her fingers and multiple bangles on her left wrist. 

She looked so unlike he knew her, and was left speechless at the very sight, lost for a coherent thought or verbal response, but his eyes couldn't stop running up and down the full length of her. Hungrily taking in her slender body, hugged by slinky fabric. Pausing for a beat on her legs, and noticing how her feet were tucked into a pair of black combat boots rather than her familiar heels. 

The sight of such a thing almost made him laugh, there was something about the look that seemed to illustrated her personality perfectly. The contrast of glamorous with edgy, light with dark. Mirroring the two sides of her personality that he'd come to find so appealing. Professional by day, free spirit by night. 

"Holy fuckin' shit!" Michael finally gasped, his eyes full and still greedy. "Wow! You....you look incredible." he blinked. 

"What are you doing here, Michael?" she asked, her voice flat and locked down. As if she was refusing to engage with him again. Fighting inside with her own emotions, that she'd been at war with since he'd fled the her office two days prior. 

Her eyes tried to focus everywhere _but_ on him and how good the bastard looked. Casual blue jeans that fit right in every way, and a grey t-shirt that framed his face and accentuated his shoulders perfectly with the V neckline. Hugging his arms, and revealing the strong muscles that he often kept hidden beneath suit jackets. The sight alone made warmth rush through her core, a thought flashing in her mind of how good his arms would feel around her. A vision of pulling the t-shirt off over his head and tossing it away carelessly before losing herself in his body, that she'd so often wondered about. 

His face seemed even more handsome than the image in her mind had reminded her of. The dark dusting of stubble over his jaw seemed to bring out his soulful eyes, and made her inner thighs tingle with desire to feel how it would scratch. She felt heat flush through her again, harder this time, sending her gut rolling with nerves and uncertainty. 

A few moments of silence fell down around them as they both struggled to find a place to start amidst the raw emotion and lust they felt. She clutched at her purse, lifting the strap a little higher on her shoulder as she resisted the urge to bite her lip, while his eyes prowled over her again and again. His mind searching for a logical thought to voice through the sensations of arousal that filled him. His priorities shifting drastically as animalistic urges made it difficult to recall the intentions he'd driven over to her house with. 

"You goin' out?" he finally forced out foolishly, almost wincing at how ridiculous the question was. _'Oh course she's goin' out, moron!_ his inner voice scolded, as if it was a little cartoon devil sitting on his shoulder. _'She ain't dressed like that for a night in front of the TV!_

"Yeah." 

Michael swallowed hard, his eyes meeting hers curiously as questions crowded in his mind. Where was she going? Who with? How did she know who she was meeting? Was it a guy? _'It's obviously a guy, dickhead!_ the same negative voice spat inside his ear. _'She's probably found a boyfriend already. Whoever the fuck it is, they stand more of a chance with her than you do. You fat old fuck! Look at her! You don't stand a chance!'_

"Why are you here?" she asked again, breaking the heavy clouds that were again congregating around his head. 

His manifestation had completely ruined the positive mood she'd convinced herself to be in. She was forcing herself to go out on a blind date that Maria had organized, knowing it was for the good of her own sanity to get out and meet people. She'd hoped finding someone else to focus her attentions on would help her get over the man who affected her so deeply. However, with him standing there -as the very embodiment of the reason why she didn't get involved with people- her strained enthusiasm for the evening of awkward silences and small-talk died a quick death. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words in his head all rushed to his mouth at once, colliding in his throat in a choking silence. He took a breath, dug deep inside himself and tried again to get something out that wasn't a expulsion of all his jumbled thoughts and emotions. "I....I came to bring you this." he reached into his jeans pocket, taking out the folded cheque and handing it to her. 

She looked at him blankly for a moment, taken back a little as she reached out her hand and took it with curious eyes. Unfolding it with both hands and looking at the amount, quickly calculating an error. Her eyebrows creased in the middle and she looked to him, confused. 

"This is more than I invoiced you for." 

"I know," he shrugged. "...but you didn't charge me for the times I showed up here, and I figured I should you pay you for your time." he said generously. 

She blinked blankly, taken back by the fact he appeared to be considering her as a therapist now, and not some type of plaything. It seemed to suggest that maybe her harsh tactics had worked with him after all, but she couldn't be certain. 

"Okay...thanks." she mumbled, letting her eyes roam the words on the cheque once again. Confused by yet another shift of behaviour in him and the conflicting emotions within herself. She didn't know what to say, or how to handle him surprising her again in such a truly unexpected way. 

She'd spent their time apart convincing herself to let him go, to cut her losses and admit she'd failed him. Vow to learn how to be a better therapist for her other clients, and forget she'd ever seen his face. She had been sure she was starting to make progress, until he'd thrown everything she thought she knew about their situation into doubt again by appearing out of the blue once more. 

"Listen," he called to her softly and she glanced up at him, her eyes full and almost shy. "I'm sorry I was an asshole the other day." he offered but she looked away from him.  
She was tired of him apologizing for his behaviour. She was tired of the constant rollercoaster of ups and downs, worry and excitement with him in her life. She'd moved to Los Santos to find some stability, to get away from everything he was and the type of craziness that surrounded him. 

She'd chased trouble for the majority of her life, and she could no longer allow herself to chase after the particular brand of disaster he offered. She knew he was dangerous to her, she'd known all along. She'd spent the days since he'd fled her office building up a wall, a solid way to block him out and properly protect herself against him, but with one moment and an unexpected gesture, he'd caused it all to tumble down again. 

"Don't worry about it." she offered, careful not to tell him it was 'okay', _because it wasn't_. "My timing about the money-" she stopped short, hesitating for a moment as she recalled how she'd awkwardly mentioned his sexual insecurities too. "....and _everything else_ , was terrible. I'm sorry I was so tactless with you." she said genuinely, having suffered so much herself for all the mistakes she'd made with him in their last session. 

"You had every right to be..." he admitted, recalling how he'd lied to her about the women he worked with just to incite a reaction. To see if she'd get as jealous as he did over the suggestion someone else was on the scene. "....and if I'd known you hadn't been gettin' paid, I'd...." he stopped short, not liking the way she didn't seem to want to look him in the eye. His gaze softened and something pushed him to take half a step closer to her. "I didn't mean to be that kind of asshole to you. I jus-" he was cut off suddenly by the horn of a taxi cab. 

Their eyes went to the yellow car idling at the foot of her driveway, and a cold blast of panic hit him as relief washed over her. "I've gotta go." she announced immediately, without looking at him. She was terrified of where things were going to lead, and she couldn't allow herself to engage him in anyway. It was too risky to come undone in that moment. She had to be resist being around him outside of office hours. It wasn't good for either of them. 

She swept past him quickly and made a B-line for the taxi, and all he could do was turn and watch her walk away. Unable to avoid noticing that the dress barely covered her ass as heat swelled again at his center. Making him crave her touch and attention, deeper than ever before. 

It felt so strange to see her walking away from him for the first time. Taking with her the one shot he had at getting her back on the hook and reeling her in. He felt a push at his shoulders again, forcing his voice from his mouth, calling out to her in a last ditch attempt to do what he'd intended. 

"Can I see you on Thursday?" he asked, needing to reconnect with her, wishing he could stop her walking away. He wanted to sit her down somewhere and talk to her about all he felt for her. Share all the crazy things that had gone on in his head since the moment they met, and especially since the last time they'd seen one another. He needed to unload, and let her in before everything piled up on him to reach breaking point. 

She looked over at him, with one foot in the taxi and her hand on the door. He looked so pathetic standing there on her driveway, with his wounded puppy dog eyes begging her to throw him a bone. She hated herself for feeling guilty about walking away. She hated herself more for going back on everything she'd promised herself in his absence, but she couldn't cut him loose. Even though she knew he was toxic, the thought of never seeing him again turned her cold inside. 

It was stupid to believe a man like him made her feel good, especially when so many of his words about his life hurt her so deeply, but she couldn't turn him out for good. Even though he was dangerous, and everything she did not need in her life, she wanted him. Just to see his face, know he was okay. Just something to fuel the fantasy that said there was hope for her being loved and understood by someone out in the world. Someone who had seen the same dark places that she had. 

"Yeah. All right. 11am." she gave and before they could exchange another word, or he could do anything to hold her back, she was in the taxi - door closed and pulling away from him into the night. 

Leaving him stood outside her house, starring at the empty space where the taxi had been. All his thoughts and feelings intensifying again and coming together to congregate heavily in his mind. Having her snatched away from him by an unknown force pushed at the worst of his buttons. 

The whole scene had reminded him bitterly that she wasn't his, that she was a free woman who could meet another man at any moment. Someone who could truly be to her what he could only dream of being. He'd resolved to give her space and time, to see if her feelings would evolve to match his, but now it all seemed like too much of a risk. Time and space would lead her to another, and the thought made his stomach burn. 

He'd gone to her house with a promise of being a better man, a patient and nothing more. To control his deeper desires and instincts in a bid to maintain her support presence in his life. Do something right to earn her trust -that he knew he didn't deserve- but seeing her dressed the way she was, knowing she was going to meet another - he couldn't stand it. Every promise he'd made himself about stepping back from his fantasies with her crumbled, crushed under her booted feet as she walked away and denied him his chance to heal the rift between them on the spot. 

He felt almost queasy at the idea of someone coming between them and ruining his unconscious plans to seduce her over time rather than overnight. He hadn't quite realised what his intentions truly were until the threat of another man entered the picture. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he was in back his car and on the highway. Following angrily behind the taxi, keeping a few cars distance between the vehicles. Gripping the steering wheel with the same white knuckles he had gripped his phone with a few days before. 

He tried asking himself what the hell he was doing. He'd resolved to stop chasing after the proverbial dangling carrot and injecting himself into her life, but there he was, tailing her like some deranged stalker. He had no idea what he was going to do if she noticed him, but he couldn't stop himself. He had to find out what she was up to - who she was meeting. He had to see the secret life she had that he knew nothing about. 

He needed to know if his fantasies ever stood a chance of truly becoming reality, hoping that maybe if he saw her happy with another man, he'd find the strength to leave her be for good. To let her go and not keep pulling her back to him and torturing himself with hope. Maybe seeing her fit well with another would help him stop kidding himself. Take away the idea that if he stepped back a little she'd come to realize how she felt about him in her own time, and eventually give in to her own hidden desires and come for him instead. 

The muscles in his arms throbbed with the urge to turn the car around and go home. Leave her to have a private life, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the taxi cab. He couldn't turn back - he _wouldn't_. He had to know who she was meeting, what she was up to. _He had to._

As long as he could stop himself doing something crazy in front of her, everything would be fine, he wouldn't hurt anything just to look. She'd never have to know that he followed her like some obsessed teenager. He was so desperate to see what was going on, it took nothing to convince himself that he was just going check that she got to her destination safely. Make sure the person she was meeting was legit, and then he'd leave. He was certain of it. 

He'd let get on with her life, wish her some happiness and go back to trying to unearth his own without her help. He wouldn't cause a scene, or give her any more reason to hate him. He'd just see where she went -just one look- then he'd drive away. _He would._ He wasn't going to make a fool of himself again or be humiliated in front of her - he'd had enough of that to last a lifetime with his wife. 

He would just lay low in the car, sink into the shadows and watch. He wouldn't risk pushing her further away by acting out in front of her. He was going to control himself, and not let his temper or jealousy get the better of him. For once in his life, he was going to do the right thing. 

But as the distance rolled by under his wheels, and they drew ever closer to her destination, the feeling that he was kidding himself took root. He was driving to the jumping off point that would change everything between them once and for all. Something was going to explode between them, his instincts told him as much beneath the delusions he forced himself to believe, and all he could do was hope their relationship didn't get killed in the blast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. As always, I hope you enjoyed this instalment, and I'd love to hear your thoughts/feelings on the chapter, and what's about to go down hehe!
> 
>  **P.S** \- Over the last couple of months I've slowly been putting together a Tumblr page for this fic, as a place to put a few things you guys might enjoy which could help enhance the read a little bit - like a map to Cassidy's house and office, a playlist of the music I use, some silly photo manips and stuff like that. Here's the link if you wanna head over and check it out: [milliondollarmangta](http://milliondollarmangta.tumblr.com/)


	22. Bellicose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Please don't fall down with shock from the second update in less than a month haha! I always feel awful for leaving you all hanging so long between chapters, so I'm really pleased to be able to share the next instalment with you now. 
> 
> Things get a bit bumpy, so you might want to strap in for the trouble that's been brewing between these two for so long to finally kick off. Once again, huge thanks to all of you for the lovely comments and kudos on the last chapter, you guys never fail to put a smile on my face. I hope you enjoy this update as much as the last! :o)

  
_Now I'm afraid of open water,_  
_But I often bathe in sin._  
_Let's be honest, you know you shouldn't bother,_  
_'Cuz with me, it's impossible to win._

_Dressed to kill, you look so right,_  
_I am drunk with lust tonight._  
_Your wounds are opening wide,_  
_And they might be just my size._  
**\-- Sidewalks When She Walks by Alexisonfire.**  


As Michael drove along following intently behind the taxi, the straps of control that curled around him over the course of the day slowly disintegrated. His initial determination to take a step back and leave Cassidy be had been overruled. His good intentions to allow her the space to develop and reveal her own feelings for him had gone by the wayside. There was no way he could stay back, or keep her as just a fantasy, not now that he knew the risks of her reality.

A switch had been flicked inside him that had turned off power to the part of him that could resist his inner desires. The call he'd heard that afternoon to return to living inside his head had fallen silent against the sounds of his jealousy and frustration. 

He had no idea what he was going to do when the taxi stopped and he saw what awaited her. His promise to not over react was growing weaker with each full turn of his car's wheels. Filling him with the familiar sensation that the red mist was making its way forward to cover over his eyes. 

His logical brain told him to stop in his tracks and go home but he couldn't turn the wheel off the Taxi's course. Instead he did just as he knew to do during a heist - he shut his conscience down, silenced the questions and doubts in his head. Focused in on the task at hand, and discovering the answers that would fill the aching hole in his gut. 

He followed the taxi she was in with expert precision, tailing her through the Los Santos streets. Heading east through sporadic patches of Saturday evening traffic. Closer and closer to the stardust filled heart of the city. 

They passed by the turn off for his house, but he turned a blind eye. Refusing to listen to the voice in his head that told him he was being ridiculous. The one that insisted he stop being so foolish and juvenile and go home. Instead he tightened his jaw and sharpened his eyes, following on relentlessly. Trailing the yellow cab through the rising urban streets, all the way up to Vinewood Boulevard. 

He saw the taxi slow up ahead and pull into the curb. Stopping underneath the neon lights of the Pink Sandwich bar and nightclub. He felt nervous energy bubble in his stomach as he pulled into the curb a several meters behind her, tucking into the shoulder outside Bishop's WTF. Sinking back into the shadow cast through his car, his eyes glued front. 

He watched impatiently as she got out of the cab, smoothed out her short slinky dress and paid for the ride. The cab quickly pulled away and she stepped up onto the sidewalk, looking up at the bright lights before her, and taking a moment to adjust her dress and hair.  
Michael wondered if she was nervous - regretting her choices. Questioning if she could feel his eyes on her, hungry and angry in equal measure, but as she shrugged the strap of her bag up onto her bare shoulder and her booted feet set off for the door, he knew there was only one thing on her mind.

Her date was obviously waiting inside and there seemed to be no hesitation in her desire to get to him. It seemed obvious that her obsessive patient -who didn't know how to handle his emotions- was bottom on a long list of other thoughts that crowed her head. 

Jealous stung like acid in his throat as he idled at the curb side. Unable to stop himself softly seething, as he imagined the guy she was meeting. He was probably exactly like the mouthy blonde asshole he'd almost laid before their last session together. Maybe it _was_ even him! He couldn't stand the idea of that potential truth, but he had to know who'd taken her focus. 

Irritated and too stubborn to acknowledge just how crazy he was acting, Michael popped the break and eased the car back onto the road. Driving past the club and quickly pulling a smooth turn across lanes, doubling back on himself to drawing up directly opposite the Pink Sandwich. Parking up just outside Vinewood Tours, in the area usually reserved for the local tour bus. It provided the perfect vantage point, allowing him to surveil the activity across the street. 

His hand went to turn off the ignition, but he hesitated for a moment. His mind flashing back to the promise he'd made to himself, and silently to her. It was wrong of him to be there, spying on her like she was some kind of criminal. He knew it was ridiculous and rude but with each second that passed it was becoming harder to acknowledge just how wrong it was. The sole of his foot itched to press on the accelerator again to drive away, but he couldn't give in. He had to know what was going on. The pressure in his head would never end without seeing the kind of evidence he needed to detach from his dreams of being with her. 

On a burst of impulse he killed the engine, switched off his lights and put both hands back on the wheel. Gripping firmly and pushing back into the seat as he tried to relax against the anxiety in his shoulders. 

His eyes focused through the dark tinted windows of his sedan, and settled bitterly on the neon lit building across the street. Scrutinizing what little activity he could see through the windows, searching hopelessly for a sign of her and whoever she was with inside.

It was ridiculous to be sitting there, like a jealous husband - he knew it. He wasn't oblivious to how foolish he was to be there, consider how his own wife was likely out on a secret date herself, or in the bed of another viable male from the local area. 

His vow to work at his marriage, to stop cheating and entertaining alternatives lives was lying flat on its back, gasping for air while he was sat there so focused on another woman. Fixated and bitter as piss over his therapist having the gall to entertain another man. 

It was ludicrous, and he knew as much, but he couldn't find the strength to move his hands off the wheel, to turn the engine back on and drive away. He was fixed to the spot, and there was no fighting it. A small part of him was acutely aware of how his behaviour constituted stalking -that he was crossing a line into a dangerous level of obsession- but he didn't care what it made him. If he didn't find out what she was doing -who she was with- he'd lose what little he had left of his mind once and for all. 

He resigned himself to sitting in the dark and quiet of his car, with the world passing him by as the skies above cycled through dark oranges and pinks into blue and gold hues to welcome the stars. In the silence he found his mind wandering for a place to settle, and he began to imagine the man she was with. 

I thought it was a safe guess to assume that man in question would be much closer to her age than he was himself. A late twenties to early thirties guy with the world at his feet. Clean money in his pockets, a good career that he'd earned through years of study and hard work. Someone who didn't have blood on his hands or a rap sheet that could stretch from one end of Vinewood Boulevard to the other.

He imagined she was with someone who was free to date and nurture a relationship. A young man who was without all the baggage he carried on his own back. Someone who wasn't married with kids. A man who wasn't a dishonest shit, a terrible husband and father - a worse human being. Someone who wasn't messed up mentally and emotionally, insecure and egotistical all at once. A man who'd be what she needed most - someone calm and level headed, who knew himself and what he wanted. A decent person, who could make her happy - a better man than he. 

He was painfully aware of how she deserved to be with a man of more substance than he was himself. A man who wouldn't pull her into their crazy world of bullshit and risk. A man who wouldn't do the kinds of things he was doing to her already. Someone who could be good for her, and never hurt her like he knew he eventually would. A person who would to give security and hope, rather than one who loaded more trouble onto her plate than she could begin to handle. 

He felt his stomach tightening with the reality of how badly he'd knew treat her. He hated knowing that she would probably become just another of his failures, another thing to regret and feel bad about. Another name on the list of people's lives he'd ruined and hearts he broke with his inability to do life right.  
Sitting secretly in the shadows of his car, he tried his best to prevent his emotions getting the better of him. Forcing himself to ignore the worrying sensation of sickness in his stomach, that seemed to grow a little more intense with each passing second. Telling himself over and over that he wasn't going to over react. That he was just waiting to see what he needed to witness to help him detach from his foolish ideas of a future with her. 

Even though he knew it was better for everyone if he accepted she was with someone else, he couldn't stand to picture it. The visions that tried to dance across his mind turned him cold. The thought of her kissing someone else they way he wanted to kiss her. Images of another's arms wrapped around her. A strangers touching her in places that he longed to. Someone else nuzzling her neck and slipping off her dress. 

He swallowed hard, forcing the anxiety and jealous back down from the back of his throat. The idea of seeing such a thing was too much, but he needed to see it with his own eyes. He told himself it was important for him to bear witness to her being content with another, so that he'd know for certain there was no hope for them. 

His own brand of logic told him that if he saw her cosying up to someone else -someone who was nothing like him- it would turn off the switch in him that powered his belief that they could be as one. If he could just see that he wasn't her type, or that she had found a connection with someone else --someone better- then maybe he could let go. Maybe the urges inside him would die a quick death, if he had evidence to truly believe they could never be together in the way he'd hoped all along. 

_Yeah._ That's what he needed to do. Just see enough to convince himself that she couldn't be his and he'd move on with his life. Let her go and forget he ever entertained the idea of there being something more between them. He'd go back home and do his best to fulfil his promise to make his marriage work. He'd take seeing Cassidy happy with another as a sign to accept the life he'd made for himself, to finally admit defeat and get on with making it work and quit dreaming of the richer life he'd been shown in so many movies. 

His body softened lower into the seat, determined to wait there for as long as it would take for her to remerge. When she did, he'd just make sure she was okay -safe and happy- then he'd go. He'd leave her to it and do whatever it took to forget her. He wasn't going to act out and give her another reason to hate him. 

He wasn't going to prove himself to be an unhinged stalker that she should run a mile from. He'd let himself see just enough to kill off the fantasies he had, while not seeing anything that would propel him into acting crazy. Then he'd drive away, and forget they ever met. He'd find another therapist to fill her role and accept that the only real understanding he'd ever find was in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. 

He assured himself that he could handle witnessing her with another; he needed to it. It would hurt, but he'd live. He wouldn't let it trigger him. He wouldn't act out and do something that would prove himself to be all the negativity Friedlander had written about him. He was going to prove to himself that he did have some goodness left in him. Show himself and the universe that he was in control of everything he was, and had rule over his actions and emotions. That he could turn over a new leaf and be a better man. Let go of someone he cared about and accept the hand he'd been dealt. 

But he already knew he was kidding himself. 

The sky turned black above him, welcoming out the stars as the city fell asleep. Three hours passing by in a strange haze of emotion, as he just sat there in the car waiting, unable to move away. Watching the couples and clubbers come and go as the night drew on later and later. His eyes focused on nothing but the door to the club; waiting for the woman who had monopolized his mind since the moment they'd met and her mystery man that threatened so many of his hopes and dreams. 

As the time passed in the quiet and peaceful cocoon of his car, he found that his mind had become troublingly calm. Somehow finding an almost resolute belief in his agreement to move on with his life and resist confronting her. He was doing an excellent job of ignoring all the thoughts that tempted the darker side of himself out, and demons that whispered threats of pushing him into doing something wild as soon as he saw her leave the club. 

As he sat there waiting he tapped into the part of himself that he turned to when he was about to go into the fray on a score. Keeping his mind calm and even, struggling to keep his thoughts vague but positive as the urge to begin wallowing and looking back on his life became stronger and stronger. 

Worried about what questions he'd ask himself and how dark he'd turn in the shadows of his past, he tried his best to keep his thoughts light and mobile. Yet somehow his focus kept slipping backwards, bringing flickering images of forgotten days to the forefront of his mind. 

Images of the other women who had been in his life, and how he'd never felt compelled to do such stupid things as he was with anyone else in his past. He didn't know where the emotions Cassidy evoked within him had come from exactly. He couldn't recall feeling such strange things before, and the lack of experience offered him no way to order or name half of the things he was feeling for her. 

When the thought popped into his head, he blindly dismissed the idea that he was in love with Cassidy. Afraid to even consider it as a possibility, and having no point of reference to connect to with past relationships to prove or disprove the notion. As he was sure he'd been in love before, but it had been straightforward. The myriad of emotions only came when things turned difficult, the past beginnings had always been so simple. He was certain he'd never felt so many things all at once before, about anything. Nothing had consumed him so much before, and it troubled him in more ways that he could count. 

He guessed Friedlander would have called it infatuation, or given him a lecture on how it all connected back to his need for attention and affection. He would have probably tied it back to his mother, or the failures in his youth, or claimed it was all due to the way he'd isolated himself over the years. He could almost hear his voice trying to convince him that he was only fixating on Cassidy as she gave him the escape from normalcy that he craved. Or how he was just looking for the easy answer in life; that running away to her would be the quick fix he always tried to find. Yet she as felt far from an easy option as he could possibly get. Easy options didn't cause him confusion and pain the way she did. 

With no idea what to name how he felt for Cassidy, he found his mind drifting to feelings he understood better. Thinking of the realities of his life, how he consistently struggled to maintain happiness in his personal life. He thought of the fights with Amanda, in particular the ones that had come in the wake of their flawed reconciliation. How things has seemed to float above the surface of the water after drowning for so long, giving him hope that things could finally be good for between them. Only to be pulled back under by the tides created by their deep seated animosity towards one another. 

It was impossible to escape all the marital struggles that had plagued them from the very start, and living in a war zone ate away at the whole family a little more each day. He knew running away wasn't the answer, and he was too stubborn to admit defeat but each time he tried to commit he thought of all the affairs she'd had. The tennis coach, the yoga teacher, the pool boy, the dog walker, the gardener, Jimmy's school teacher. The list was seemingly endless and his stomach twisted tighter with thoughts of so much betrayal. 

Sure, he wasn't innocent. He'd cheated plenty too, with women whose real names he never knew and although he doubted he was truly the one to trigger the blow-for-blow infidelities, he certainly did nothing to discourage it. Yet whenever he took up with a stripper or a hooker, it was just a quick fix - never a true affair. There were no feelings involved other than lust and the need for gratification. Hookers and strippers didn't know his wife's first name and she didn't have to look them in the eye after he'd fucked them. At very least he'd respected his wife enough to never have slept with another woman in their marital bed. Yet the same couldn't be said for the woman who wore the same ring on her finger as he did on his. 

Of course, he knew that none of his wife's behaviour excused his own; or made it acceptable to be considering committing the same sins as she had. It didn't give him a pass to lay besides her in their bed thinking about doing thing to Cassidy that he hadn't done to his wife in years. Yet the more he thought about how Cassidy made him feel, the more he wanted to throw the reconciliation with Amanda out of the window, to make way for a chance with her instead. 

Not to match his wife's philandering again, in some kind of selfish passive-aggressive attack, but because he felt Cassidy could give him everything he craved. That all the strange emotions she'd inflicted on him meant something more. Something seemed to tell him that she could be everything he'd needed for as long as he could remember, and much more. There was a warmth between them that hinted at something special -something more than he'd ever felt with his wife or anyone before her- and it scared him as much as it intrigued him. 

He wanted to explore it all, but he knew she deserved better. He could tell she wanted more from life than he could give her, and as he sat in his car he tried to make himself believe that he could walk away if he saw her happy with another man. Forget he'd ever met her, and silently wish her well with the rest of her life and simply drive away. 

If she left the club alone or unhappy however, then he found himself promising again that he wouldn't push for something to happen between them. As much as he wanted it, he still wasn't sure if he could finally give himself a viable option to change his life for good. Until he figured if moving on was what he truly wanted, he'd have to settle for continuing on with her as a patient and nothing more. Yet he knew trying to resist the pull to her would be another potentially incendiary mistake. 

"Jesus Christ!" he said to himself on a sigh, as a fresh swirl of regret and motivation swept through his gut. "What are you doing, man?" he asked himself in the silence of his car. Confused and frustrated by his conflicting desires pulling him every which way. The tug in his heart, that felt as if it would only be soothed in her arms and the twist in his gut that guilt formed at the idea of pulling away from his marriage. 

Uncertain if he dared to spoil the future he'd signed up to at home; or if he really wanted to risk having Cassidy hate him forever by jumping forward to grab after something that wasn't promised between them. He couldn't be sure if he was happy to simply doom himself to live an unfulfilled life out of his sense of duty and his fear of failure, and inability to admit defeat with his marriage. Or if he wanted to start over from scratch at the age of forty-eight and with more baggage than Los Santos International Airport. 

He didn't know what to do for the best, or what he truly wanted to commit to, but he knew he needed her in his life. The idea of having to pull away from the curb and cut her out of his life stung sharply. He wanted to believe he could turn his back, or at least settle for her just being his therapist, but he didn't know how he could deny what was between them any longer. How he could turn his ears deaf to the call that said their relationship could be the real therapy they both needed. 

All he could do was hope some kind of miracle would happen to help him make the right choice for once in his life. That somehow things would align and show him the way out of the mess he was tangled up in. Hoping he could find a way to finally release the heavy ache in his chest and the pressure in his head.

Not a moment too soon, the doors to the club opened and Cassidy stepped out into the night, accompanied by her date. The heavy thoughts about Michael's head shattered like glass, and he instantly sat up straighter in the seat of his car. His eyes zeroing in to dissected his rival. 

The man was long, and athletic. With light brown hair and clean shaven from what he could see. Smart looking, dressed in designer jeans and a sports coat over a pale yellow t-shirt. Michael didn't need to hear what was going on to know the guy was trying to be charming, but from what he tell from across the street, Cassidy didn't seem to be buying it. 

He moved his face closer to the tinted window and focused intently on what was going on. His hand unconsciously going for the door handle, as he watched the moment unfold on the sidewalk outside the nightclub. 

She was chatting with him, but her smile looked forced. Making her fidget a little, and tug repeatedly at the hem of her short black dress. Michael assumed she was wishing she'd worn something different, as she appeared to do her best to be polite and make her excuses for departure. 

He saw no signs of the happiness he'd been anticipating. Nothing that said all between them was lost, and as a result something indescribable began to swell in his chest and flood into his limbs. 

She pointed off in the opposite direction of the street as if she was headed off back the way she came, but the guy shook his head. Hooking his thumb over his shoulder, telling her something - insisting almost. Stepping closer as if to encourage her to give in and go with him. 

Cassidy shook her head and waved her hand with an awkward smile, signalling she wasn't interested in whatever he was offering. Filling Michael with the heat of hope, as she took a step back away from the man. Showing without doubt that she wasn't interested in prolonging their meeting, telling Michael he still had a shot at being the one for her. 

Before he could think logically or find certainty in anything he saw or felt, an explosion of emotion erupted inside him. He flung the driver's door open and dived out, rushing across the street towards the scene, as Cassidy remained oblivious to the oncoming storm. Trying her best to dodge the mystery man's efforts to make her stay longer than she wanted. 

"Cassidy!" Michael called out to her from midway across the street; his eyes firmly ignoring the lure of her exposed legs, locking in on the man she was with instead. 

Her head snapped around to face the sound of his voice. Her expression wide-eyed and confused, as the colour on everything around her became over saturated and her heart began to pound in her chest. A strange fuzzy feeling filling her head and stomach, making her forget that she was in the middle of the sidewalk, in a standoff with her pushy date. 

_What the hell was he doing there?_

"Michael?" she cried out, her defences snapping into place to protect her. "What the hell are you doing here?" Her eyes scanned him frantically as he jogged up to the curb; her heart singing against her conscience that screamed out in anger and frustration. 

"I...I..." he stumbled over his words, unsure how to answer. Suddenly feeling utterly foolish under the spotlight, as her date stared at him expectantly. "I...I need to talk to you." 

"We have an appointment on Thursday..." she told him, her instincts trying to remain as detached as she could against the pull she felt towards him, as how good he looked. How he was a million times more handsome and intriguing than the man she'd wasted three hours of her life on. 

"I know, but it can't wait." he gave bluntly. 

"I'm sorry, but it'll have to. You shouldn't be here." she said with a tone that told she was trying desperately to find her doctor persona. Needing it to help her navigate the difficult situation he'd pushed her into. 

"I know I just..." he hesitated, glancing to the man who was staring at him angrily. "Listen?...Can we go somewhere, _private_." he asked, his eyes sorrowful and pleading with her. Everything he wanted to say to her was quickly crowding onto his tongue, ready to flood out the moment the opportunity came. 

Cassidy shook her head, folding her arms across her chest, as the defences she'd rebuilt in the days since he stormed out of her office rose around her. Refusing to allow herself to fall for his forlorn look that tugged painfully at her heart. 

"No. It's not appro-" 

He cut her off angrily. "I don't give a fuck what's appropriate!" 

With that, a flame sparked in her eyes as if he'd pushed a button that unlocked the cage door that kept the demon inside her locked away, but before she could react her date stepped forwards. Moving in between them protectively, blocking Michael's view of her growing anger. 

"Listen, pal. I think you should leave." the man warned. 

"What's it to ya, asshole!" Michael growled, squaring off his shoulders and lifting his chin as if he was ready to throw down. 

"You're obviously not supposed to be here, so how about you take off?" he suggested, trying to be delicate and diplomatic, but before logic and control could get a grip on him, Michael's fist broke free and came flying at the man's face. All the anger and frustration he'd been sitting on for three hours powered his arm, sending his knuckles connecting to jawbone with an audible thump. 

"WOAH! WOAH!" Cassidy cried, jumping in between the two men, as her date staggered back. Fumbling blindly with one hand for the windows of the nightclub behind him to steady himself against, as his free hand clutched at his jaw that was already swelling rapidly. "What the fuck you doin'?" she yelled at Michael, her Liberty City accent getting the better of her. 

"This assho-" he defended, angrily gesturing with his hand but she cut him off.

"He didn't do anything! What the hell's the matter with you?" she snarled angrily. Glaring at him with a cutting look of distain for only a beat before going to her date and checking him over. 

Michael stretched his neck, feeling the familiar red mist settling over his eyes as every muscle in his body tense with frustration and uncertainty. He didn't know what he was doing, why he was allowing himself to act out when he promised himself he wouldn't but his anger wouldn't give him a moment to think clearly. He had a million things he needed to say, a million more things that he wanted to do, but he could only stand and watch as Cassidy tried to help her date. 

She managed to get only a momentary look at his injury before he brushed her away, saying something to her that Michael couldn't hear over the sound of the muffled music coming from inside the club and the raging storm inside his head. 

The man righted himself, shrugged Cassidy off and backed out of the scene. Leaving her standing there on the sidewalk, shaking her head as she watched the man that had seemed so eager to keep her hanging around, run off cowardly into the night. 

She turned back to Michael and glared at him angrily. "What the hell is all this about?" she asked, giving him a beat to respond but he didn't and his silence spoke volumes. "Did you follow me?" she asked in disbelief, stepping closer to him as if to challenge his honesty. 

"I was worried about you." he offered, hoping she'd go easy on him. As his mind pulled away from his anger for a moment to enjoy another look at how she was dressed. How the tight dress showed off her figure perfectly, and send a familiar tension straight to his core. He wished with all he was that he could reach out and grab her, push her up against the glass front of the club behind them and show her everything he felt, but couldn't seem to move. 

"Bullshit!" she bit, snatching his attention back instantly. The look on her face was unlike he'd ever seen before, the pleasant agreeable therapist he'd known for so many weeks as nowhere to be seen. She was furious, and for the first time in days his mind fell numb offering him no solution to soothe her. 

"Jesus Christ, Michael!" she sighed angrily. "Have you been out here this whole time?" Michael glanced away, feeling shamed and uncertain of himself, but his silence gave her the answer she needed. "What are you even doing right now?" she asked anxiously; unsure of what the hell to do with him standing there, his right leg jogging restless with nerves, steel blue eyes looking at her like a puppy who'd just been scolded for chewing up a pair of designer shoes. 

"I just needed to talk with you, and...." he started shaking his head, the numbness in his head made it hard to grab a thought to voice. "I don't even know.... I just-" he stopped himself rambling. He threw up his hands, and made a half turn to look away from her, rubbing the lower half of his face with his hand. Unable to even recall why he was even standing front of her now the moment was there for him to seize. 

He took a deep breath and looked inside himself. Seeing clearly that he had one last shot at getting what he wanted, and he had to take it. "Listen....Cass...." he asked out, turning back to face her and trying not to see the way she stepped back from him as if she was afraid. Crossing her arms over her chest again and refusing to focus on his face. "Am I fuckin' crazy for feelin' like there's something between you and me? _A connection_?" he gestured between them like she was supposed to see something physically there. 

Cassidy sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Searching for the strength to handle the situation she'd known was coming for weeks. She didn't want to deny him, but she had to. For the sake of her career and both their sanities. 

"You're my patient. I'm your therapist. We have a therapeutic bond. That's all." she told flatly, desperately trying to detach her emotions from the situation and not let him see signs of the weakness that lay within her. Holding herself back from jumping over the edge with him.

"Cut the shit, Cass!" Michael snapped. "I know you feel there's somethin' more here." 

She took a deep breath, trying to find some composure and strength to ignore the part of herself that tried so hard to push her into him. Refusing to hear all the scars and cuts that called out for his help; ones that she knew matched the call of his own. She wanted to confess everything about how she felt to him, but she couldn't let herself. 

Determined not to fall, she shook her head, taking a step or two away from him as she fought with herself. Struggling with lying and denying the truth but she couldn't allow him to believe there was something more. She didn't want him to make another mistake that he'd suffer for; she didn't want to be the one to damage what little good he'd done in reuniting his family. 

"What you feel is called erotic transference." she told him bravely, standing a little straighter to show defiance and determination not to bend to his will. "It happens to a lot of people in therapy."

Her almost arrogant tone and posture riled him. "That's fuckin' bullshit!" he dismissed. "This ain't some psychosomatic thing you can explain away with your Goddamn books!" 

She raised one hand to head, rubbing the area just above her eyebrow. Trying to soothe away the frantic thoughts in her head that told her to drop the act and go with what she truly felt for him. Desperately she searched herself, grabbing for every tattered shred of her professionalism that she could find. Quickly piling them all up and stranding atop them to give her the purchase to push him back. 

"You're showing all the signs." she told stoically. "Sending me flowers, showing up at my house, inviting me out to dinner, trying to get inside my head. Following me here tonight...." she paused for a beat looking at him sternly. ".....it's all a symptom of-" he cut her off. 

"The fuck it is!" he barked, his resolve to hold back and be a better man turning to ash before his eyes.  
"It's called erotic transference." she said again. "Go home look it up. What you're feeling...what you think _I'm_ feeling, it's not real! You just think it is because I've been sympathetic to you, I've made you feel important to me. I've shown you kindness and you've equated that to something romantic or sexual. It's not real, Michael." she told him against the truth in her head. 

"It feels pretty fuckin' real to me!" he growled, refusing to hear the sense she was trying to convince him of. "It's making me fuckin' crazy, but it's real alright." 

She felt a wave of tingles rush up her back, filling her with emotions she didn't want to acknowledge. Shaking her resolve to not let him slip through the cracks in her armour and undo her. Fearing weakness, she pulled her eyes off him and took a half turn away from him. 

She didn't want to be standing there in the middle of Vinewood Boulevard, at almost midnight arguing with her patient, with God knows who watching the scene unfold. "We can find a way to work through it, together." she told him gently, trying not to reveal how nervous she was. "As your therapist it's my duty to help you understand what you're feeling and see that it's not real and overcom-" he cut her off. 

"I don't wanna fuckin' _work through it_! There ain't nothin' to work through. This ain't some Freudian bullshit they taught you about at college. What I feel for you it's-" he stopped short. Afraid to say what he was really thinking and vocalise all the emotions that burned so brightly in his chest. 

Cassidy chewed on her lower lip, tightening her arms across her chest, as if to keep out the cold, but the night air was warm. The coldness she felt was from the distance she was forcing to come between them. Her stomach turned with the idea of cutting him lose, and crushing his hopes -and her own- but she couldn't allow him to believe there could ever be more between them. The cost was too high for them both. 

Michael looked over her face, his eyes pleading for her to throw him a lifeline, but she was shut down emotionally. He could see in her eyes that she wasn't going to let herself give in to what she truly left inside. "You're really gonna stand there and act like there ain't somethin' between us?" he asked, moving closer to her. 

It was taking all she had to hold back herself back; to resist all that she'd hungered for and everything he was indirectly offering her. "There is." she agreed, cruelly giving him a sense of hope for a split second before snatching it away. "And I've told you want it's call, and that's all it is. We have a therapeutic bond and it's nothing more than that. I'm sorry I lead to you believe it was." she said softly, hoping he couldn't see what she tried to prevent from showing in her eyes. 

Michael gave a caustic huff, his eyes turning vicious. "If you fuckin' believe that, then you're the one who needs professional help, sweetheart!" he blurted out savagely. 

Something suddenly blew inside her; an explosion that destroyed the remnants of her composure and professionalism. Allowing the side of herself that she tried to hide to finally break free and come running for him. 

"Fuck you!" she barked, throwing her arms out in anger. "Do you have any idea what you're doing right now?" she yelled, stabbing her finger at him, causing the silver bangles on her wrist to jangle. "The fucking position you're putting me in?" she hissed. "I've worked so Goddamn hard to get where I am, and you're here trying to pull me into some bullshit that could cost me my career!" Michael opened his mouth to speak, but it was her turn to unleash her fury on him as he had so often done to her within the confides of her office. 

"I've tried so fucking hard to avoid falling back into the kind of world you live in..." she raged. "And now you're here, trying to drag me back under because you can't understand boundaries. Because you never learned that a woman being nice to you doesn't automatically mean she wants to fuck you!" 

Michael was shocked into silence; surprised by the information and perception she'd thrown at him but she gave him no chance to process it - she wasn't half way done. 

"You can't have real feelings for me, Michael." she warned. "Because you don't know a Goddamn thing about me. I'm not who you think I am." her eyes were hot with anger. "Whatever you think I can give you, _I can't!_ And whatever the fuck you've convinced yourself you're feeling for me, deflect it over to your wife!" she ordered harshly. "At least then maybe this whole thing won't be a massive waste of each other's time." With that she turned on her heel and started to walk away, but seeing the back of her head shoved Michael out of his frozen hesitation. 

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, yanking her back to face him but he was too heavy handed, setting her off. 

"Don't you fuckin' touch me!" she spat furiously. Pulling her wrist up through his thumb, effortlessly breaking his grip, causing his eyes to widen and mouth fall open a little - his chance to stop her stolen from him. 

"Cass....I need-" she cut him off. 

"I don't give a shit what you need, you selfish prick!" she growled. "This isn't just about you. Think about what I need! What I stand to lose by entertaining you like this." her arms were moving wildly in front of his sorrowful eyes, which did nothing to cut through the anger she felt for him confronting her. 

Her heart felt like it was splitting in her chest, but she couldn't back down and submit to him. She had to get free of him before he ruined everything she'd worked so for. He was bad news to everything she valued. 

"Learn to consider someone other than yourself for a fucking change." she ordered bitterly, hurt and venom mixing in her eyes. "Go home to your wife, Michael. Find yourself a new therapist, and stay the fuck away from me." with that she turned again, stepping to the curb and putting the tip of her thumb and forefinger in her mouth and whistling loudly for an approaching taxi. 

Michael was fixed to the spot in shock and horror; all he could do was watch as she hurried into the road and jumped in the back of another yellow cab that took her away. Taking along with her every hope he had chasing what had felt so real and promising. 

"Fuck!" he roared, taking a step to his right and throwing an angry fist into the lamppost besides him. His heart aching with disappointment, and his gut trembling with regret. 

As he feared he would, he'd managed to go and fuck everything up, just like always. His lack of self control and knack of always doing the wrong thing had ruined the one positive thing he felt he had in his life. His one escape; his one hope. The dream he'd been obsessing over in the weeks since meeting her was shattered; on one irrational impulse he'd destroyed it all. 

He'd jumped the gun, struck out. Pushing her to become a person she didn't want to be in order to protect herself from him and the chaos that rode in on his back. Giving him one more failure and disappointment to add to the list he kept in his mind. One that he knew would haunt him with _'what ifs'_ for the rest of his miserable life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the kick in the feels, but it had to be done haha! As always, I'd love to know what you guys think and feel, now that the cat is finally out of the bag between these two. 
> 
> (You guys also might get a kick out of seeing a few pics I made of Michael sitting outside the Pink Sandwich waiting for Cass which you can find [here on my MDM Tumblr ](http://milliondollarmangta.tumblr.com/post/142979013210/million-dollar-man-chapter-twenty-two))
> 
> Oh, and since I made mention of the other women in Michael's past in this chapter, I figured this'd be a good place to promote my other mini Michael fic ( **[Profit and Loss](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6530971/chapters/14941666)** ) it's a six part'er which covers several years of Michael's life and will lead almost directly into this story. It doesn't feature Cassidy at all, but there is another original female and the events mentioned in it will eventually be referenced and become canon for this story too. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, you guys are the best! :o)


	23. The Smell Of Burnt Bridges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Huge and heartfelt thanks to all of you who left me kudos and feedback on the last update - you truly are the best readers a writer could hope for. I'm so sorry to have left it so long between updates. I've been out of town for the past two weekends for work, and so what little writing time I get has been gobbled up by real life responsibilities and playing catch-up on a bunch of stuff - boo hiss boo! Anyways, better late than never I guess. 
> 
> So, I figured it's been a while since we heard from Cassidy, and you're about to see the beginnings of her dark and unstable sides coming out. This is the last bit of introspection for a while before the shit really hits the fan, but there are a few things that she thinks/does in this chapter that'll play through into the next few. 
> 
> If you're curious or need a little more help setting the scene, you can find the [floorplan of Cassidy's house here](http://milliondollarmangta.tumblr.com/post/135638110245/cassidys-house), that I created to help me with visualising the place and writing movement/actions and what not. 
> 
> Anyway - happy reading, guys! Hope you enjoy! :o)

_What have the demons done?_  
_With the luminous light that once shined from your eyes._  
_What makes you feel so alone,_  
_Is it the whispering ghosts,_  
_That you feared the most?_  
_But the blackness in your heart,_  
_Won't last forever._  
_I know it's tearing you apart,_  
_But it's a storm you can weather._  
**\-- Oh Sister by City and Colour**

 

Almost six days passed by unexpectedly fast, as Cassidy tried her best not to think of Michael, or dwell on what had happened between the two of them that past Saturday night on Vinewood Boulevard. 

The first few days of his absence from her life had passed by easily in a haze of anger towards him and his outrageous actions. She was furious that he'd followed her and confronted her in the way he did, and found herself unnerved by his inability to respect her boundaries. Yet above all she felt frustration the most; caused by how he'd clumsily told her how he felt about their relationship and the fact she could do nothing with it. 

The things she'd learned and the feelings he'd evoked within her were troubling, but had been easily buried beneath her aggravation for the early part of the week. However, as the days rolled by -and much to her own annoyance- her temper evened out. 

She found her mind and emotions shifting and pulling in very different directions, and it scared her to consider she was allowing herself to understand his behaviour. In a bid to avoid acknowledging the confusing way she was feeling and unconsciously beginning to excuse him, she searched for as much distraction as she could. 

Occupying her mind with work responsibilities and the evening activities that filled her diary. Reading more than she ever had in her life and watching TV shows that struggled to hold her interest in the past. It seemed to help the days slip by quickly and kept her thoughts Michael free for the most part. 

It quickly felt like a chore to constantly search for the next distraction. Deliberately doing anything and everything she could to avoid giving her mind a moment to tune out of the present and back into him. Every moment of stillness her mind found made it harder to ignore the deep ache that had rooted itself in her chest since walking away from him. 

She feared stopping to look inwardly and dwell on what had happened with him, and all the terrible mistakes she'd made to get her where she was. Not just with him, but through the course of her adult life too. Burying her head and distracting her mind had been key to her survival for years. She knew it was the worst coping mechanism, but it worked. 

However, when Thursday morning came without a sign of Michael in her office, she found that the sand she'd hidden her head under was blown away. All the walls she'd built to contain her emotions began to crack, and slowly let in all the feelings she'd been trying to hold at bay. 

Filling with mixed thoughts and emotions, she told herself she would turn him away if he showed up. That she didn't want to see him ever again. She was adamant in her belief that she would take firm and decisive action against him if he appeared, but the emptiness of Thursday morning cut deep. Weakening her resolve to shut him out and move on. Filling her with remorse for all that they'd broken and lost. 

She wouldn't let herself wallow in regrets though, and told herself repeatedly that it was for the best that he hadn't shown up for their session. Hoping if she said it enough, she'd start to believe it. As deep down she knew it was the chance she needed to make a clean break from him and defuse the risk he posed to the decent life she'd built for herself. He was dangerous for her to be around, he'd made much had been made alarmingly clear. 

Despite her determination to move on, the chill of disappointment bought by the death of hope in her heart became harder and harder to ignore as the weekend came closer. She longed for the initial anger she felt to return, knowing that it would fuel her determination to keep him from her mind. 

However, with his nonattendance seeming to act as the final nail in the coffin of their relationship, the fight with her emotions grew harder with each passing hour. The depletion in her resources for distraction left her few places to hide, and uninhibited - her mind began to darken. 

Her heart hurt deeply for reasons she couldn't quite understand and his absence let a chill back into her life that she hadn't felt in a long time. She knew it was foolish for her to have unconsciously attached so much hope to him. She felt embarrassed that she'd allowed herself to dream of what could have been - _if things were different_. Worst of all, she hated feeling like she could forgive him for crossing the lines he had. 

He'd shown his true colours by behaving in such an outlandish way. Acting like an obsessive by following her and confronting her in public. Pushing his way into her personal life, and forcing her into a corner. 

She wanted to hate him for it. She wanted his actions to push her far away from him, and force her to never look back. Yet in the back of her mind she knew what he'd done had only been some kind of subconscious instinct within him, born of his inability to handle his emotions and thoughts. 

As Friedlander had told her through his notes, she knew that Michael didn't know how to handle and filter his feelings in the way most people did. He struggled to control himself in certain situations and acted out without realizing what he'd done until it was too late. There was rarely malice in his knee jerk reactions but his lack of control over himself often came across as aggression and dominance. 

His clinical notes confirmed that his intentions were not to anger, hurt, or frighten her, but the truth was - _he had._

There was no decent excuse for his actions; a man of his age had no justification for behaving so childishly. A man who had made promises to his wife and his family to commit to them, should have resisted his juvenile urges to chase someone new. 

A grown man who was fully aware of his weaknesses and control issues should have seen just how wrong his behaviour was and stopped himself before he crossed the line - but he hadn't. It should have cast him as the villain without question, but something inside her wouldn't allow for her to hold it against him. 

She knew it was weak of her not to resent him for his inability to control himself, but she knew herself -all too well- how hard it was to restrain certain urges. Having experienced many years of war with the hold her own emotions had on her, and the weakness in the grip she held on her own self control. 

She'd said and done so many things she didn't mean in the heat of the moment, and every day was a struggle not to let herself become the impulsive person she'd been her whole life. She felt things tempt her into almost destroying her restraint almost every day, and because she understood what it was like to so easily lose control, she couldn't think badly of him for suffering the same affliction. 

On top of understanding his behaviour, she couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty for pushing him to act out in such a way. In their last session together she'd pressed him on issues that were a source of discomfort for him. 

She's crossed a line herself by questioning her fee with him while he was revealing the deepest rooted fears he had. She'd hurt him unintentionally by speaking out of turn and the more she acknowledged that, the harder it became to feel the anger for him stepping out of line. 

They had both triggered reaction in one another, proving that their relationship would never survive each other. Despite the composed persona she'd shown him so many times, deep inside she knew they were too alike. 

They were both too messed up and emotionally volatile to gel together for long, and she had a nasty temper that would rival anything he had to throw at her. A temper that was accompanied by far too many deep seeded issues and a slew of demons of her own. Demons that would play all too well with the ones that dwelled inside him. 

_No._ It was better if they stayed away from each other, for both their sakes and sanity. 

Yet knowing what was right, and committing to it was a battle. It took constant reassurance to remind herself that she needed to get on with her life and forget the mistakes she made with him. Put it down to a learning curve -a valuable professional lesson- and forget Michael De Santa all together. 

She couldn't allow herself to fixate on the hope she'd felt with him around her, or the way being near to him somehow made her feel safe, appreciated and wanted - even when he was over stepping boundaries. 

There had been something magical about having him in her life and the fantasy he allowed her to escape into. The odd sense of comfort she felt in having someone other than herself to worry about. The way his sessions gave her something to look forward to each week. How the dream of there being something more between them gave her troubled and weary mind respite, and reminded her that she could be understood by another, and maybe loved too. 

Even though he seemed to offer her all the things she silently craved, she realized she didn't need someone like him in her life. She especially didn't want to be the kind of woman who lost all sense of herself over a man. 

He was bad for her, that much was obvious. 

She told herself repeatedly that she didn't need him, _or_ want him. Uttering constant mental reminders that recalled how she was doing just fine before she met him, and that she'd keep on doing fine without him lurking in the background of her life too. 

Again and again her own stern voice in her head reminded that letting go of him was the right thing to do. Telling herself that he was a terrible person that she didn't need in her life; that he was all she was running from. 

Reminding her that he would be the worst possible therapy for the issues that she kept hidden away inside. Trying to convince herself that he wouldn't understand or accept her for who she truly was, and all the things she'd done in her life before. 

Continually she attempted to pour gasoline over her foolish hopes and dreams that featured him, hoping to set them alight to save her sanity. Then hating the way feelings of loneliness seeped back in as he slowly faded out of the picture. Angry at herself for allowing her weaknesses to grow and gather strength within her. 

However, even against all her defences and determination to forget, as the days past she found thoughts of him slipping in where she least expected them. Plucking at her emotions, and pulling her back into headspaces where she dare not be. 

In the garage she came across the paint rollers and her stomach turned with regret; thinking back to the afternoon when he showed up to find her in a private moment. How they'd bounced off one another and all the lingering looks and heated chemistry that had revealed itself to be between them. An energy that seemed to hold so much promise and excitement. Thoughts of which now left her empty, allowing a cold chill to seep in through the gap where she'd torn him out of her life. 

Even doing something as simple as laundry triggered memories too, thinking about how she would no longer need to make a reminder to dress conservatively on Thursdays. She wouldn't have to pre-plan her wardrobe any longer, as without him and his burning blue eyes around to tempt her, she could dress as she pleased. 

A flutter of disappointment drifted through her stomach over and over whenever she thought of the hole he'd left in her life. Feeling cold when she remembered how much she already missed living under the threat of him appearing on her doorstep at any moment. How much she'd miss the excitement she felt on Wednesday nights, knowing it was only hours until she saw him again. 

She knew it was horribly unhealthy to have ever felt such a way for him - _her patient_ \- but she couldn't help herself. She felt something for him, and it was something that ran deep. There was an undeniable connection between them, and knowing now that he'd felt it too proved harder to forget with each day he remained absent from her life. 

As the working week came to a close and the weekend began, she found herself slowly sinking into the thick mire of emotions she'd skilfully dodged all week. She found escapism in a movie and drinking in a bar after work on Friday and a few calls to the distant friends she had dotted about the country boosted her mood and somehow she fell into a peaceful sleep. To help her wake on Saturday in a better mood; the sunlight warming her and lifting her spirits. A morning of retail therapy, followed by an afternoon lazing on the beach with her music proved the perfect distraction, but as the sun set, so did her good mood. She feared the night she faced, and as Saturday evening set in, she felt her mind slipping into the darkness she'd edged around since he'd broken the lock on its cage the weekend prior. 

Her weekends -especially the nights- had typically been empty and lonely since moving to Los Santos. The days that should have bought fun and freedom instead only had her scrambling for distractions, to avoid thinking of the nights of nothingness that loomed over her. With all her work completede and entertainment scarce, she found her stockpile of distractions worryingly empty, and before the Saturday sun had properly set she was feeling things she could barely stand to. 

The lack of diversion for her thoughts quickly began to mingle with the troubled emotions that had reached a peak after seeing no sign of him at her office the day before. A constant mantra had settled in her head, telling herself that what was happening was for the best. 

During the week she had sometimes found herself muttering aloud about how Michael's behaviour was out of line -bordering on creepy- and far out of the realm of what was appropriate for a patient, or a married man. As if she needed to hear someone say it to her in order for her to believe it. Alone in her house she found her mutterings increased more and more by the minute, as if she was coming undone. 

She fought to resist thinking of him and what he was up to out there in the city. Her mind tried to pull her into worrying about what dangers he was involved with, or if he was being triggered by something or someone. Thinking of the nightmares he told her about and his feelings of loneliness and futility. Wondering if he was hurting the way she was; hating to think of him suffering all the pain he'd revealed to her during their sessions. 

Her stomach churned each time an image of him making it work with his wife flicked across her mind. Worse still were the unwelcomed thoughts of him going to some nameless woman for comfort. The darkest corners of her mind filled with pictures of him being seduced by the pretty and ambitious young women at the movie studio that he'd told her tales of. 

At the time he'd told her, something about his tone of voice said he was making it up -manipulating her- but as the time drew on her confidence in that theory weakened. Hurting her in ways she couldn't stand. Jealousy stung inside her, and bought ever closer to understanding his actions around her and her date. 

She knew she had to stop worrying about what he was doing with his life and the mistakes he was making, without her being there to try and talk him out of them. He wasn't her problem anymore, and she had to accept that. If she could just let go of the ridiculous and damaging attachment she felt to him, then she'd be fine. He wasn't hers for the taking; she didn't want to be 'the other woman'. Most of all she knew she didn't need someone complicated in her life. 

The ever increasing battle with herself was rapidly wearing her down. Fighting against the two conflicting sides of her emotions as well as her personality. Listening to the one side that demanded she alone was all she needed. Adamant that she was strong and independent, safe and happy by herself. While the other side interjected, reminding her how she craved security in someone else, and longed to mean something to someone again. She'd never admit it, but she was lonely and casting him out of her life only amplified the emptiness she felt inside. 

She saw people all the time, and made plenty of acquaintances, but no one really knew her - not in the way he seemed to promise. The facade she wore and the walls she'd built up kept people at a distance, so there was no one to talk with or lose herself in. No one to touch her or comfort her when she found herself haunted by the ghosts of her past and fears for her future either. 

Despite her stoic outward appearance and her determination to be self sufficient, she craved love and understanding. Finding herself desperate to mean something to someone again and have another soul attached to her own. 

The two sides of herself couldn't have been more different and the war raged within her more with each passing thought of him and all the potential he had seemed to show her. She hated every second of it wishing for him, and told herself that she didn't need a man in her life - that he especially, wasn't the one for her. She'd been her own saviour for years and he offered her no salvation, only downfall. 

He could only stand to cost her everything -in more ways than one- and she needed to believe he wasn't worth the risk. He wouldn't help fix her, he's just break more pieces off what little she had left of herself. Two damaged people would never work well together, she knew that well enough from the couples she treated. 

There were so many odds were against any potential between them. Clinging to the dream of something more was as ridiculous as it was frustrating. Yet still a foolish hope of some kind of miracle happening and making things work out had kept alive inside her chest, living in the cracks of her broken heart. 

She wanted to forget that he was married. Married to a woman he had so much history with, including two children who were adults in their own right, but still needed their father around. Ignore the fact that he was a criminal, a mass murderer, a deeply damaged and flawed individual who would only serve to perpetuate her own issues. She had to believe they would be toxic for each other but her heart still hurt from the loss of him. 

Fearing her emotions could get the better of her impulses, she committed to locking herself away in her house. Turning off her phone and hiding it in a draw, to resist reaching out to him. Shutting down and bagging up her laptop to avoid typing out an email or stalking him and his family on Life Invader to see what was going on in his life now. 

With so much weighing on her mind, she resolved to spend another Saturday night home alone, catching up on some reading and trying to find a movie on TV that she hadn't seen at least three times before. Anything to keep thoughts back from the forefront of her mind where they would do most damage. 

She'd took a long hot bubble bath in the main bathroom of her beach house, hoping to soothe her body and mind, downing almost a whole bottle of wine before getting out. Dressing in a black silk robe for comfort and trying to ignore how badly her fingers were wrinkled from the bath water. 

Juicing the last few drops out of the wine bottle, she tossed it into the bathroom waste paper basket and padded back downstairs barefoot, and sipping on what was left in her glass. She hated to turn to intoxication as a coping mechanism, having been down that slippery slope once before, but alcohol seemed like the best remedy to calm the war inside her for the coming night. She'd also guessed that wine was a less frowned upon way to get shitfaced drunk than necking the whiskey or beers that she really craved. 

She needed something to try and settle the mixed feelings inside once and for all, certain that if she could survive the last of the weekend, then the following week would be easier. Bringing with it new distractions and a little more healing that would repair the damage done. 

The world outside had long fallen dark, as she went into the kitchen and cracked open another bottle of Marlowe's Vineyard's finest red. Topping up her fluid levels with it a little more, but she wasn't feeling any better for the warmth in her veins. 

_He_ was still trying to get in her head, messing with her thoughts and emotions. Clinging onto her like some kind of tick that had burrowed under her skin, only to be removed with fire or force. It seemed there was only one thing left to do to finally put everything about him out of her mind once and for all. 

With a new idea in her head, she left her wine and went back upstairs and into the spare bedroom, across the hall from her own. One which doubled as an superfluous guest room and what would eventually be a home office - once she'd found the motivation to build up the new furniture that still lay on the room flatly packed. 

Inside she set about gathering up everything she had on him. Pulling out Dr. Friedlander's original notes from a filing cabinet, then gathering up every paper copy of the reports she'd written about him from her own files and folders. Putting them all in a thick pile on top of her desk that was cluttered with work things and stationary items that she'd yet to find a proper home for. 

Fishing into a drawer she pulled out a blue coloured flashdrive that contained all the digital copies of her notes on him, and then she dug into the drawer below to pull out a pack of new button seal envelopes. 

She didn't waste a second in taking one out and stuffing all the paperwork inside until its manila seams were almost bursting apart. Getting rid of all traces of him would be the perfect remedy, she was certain. 

She took the envelope and the flashdrive down the stairs. Stopping by the door to rummage in her work bag for a black marker pen before taking all she carried over to the dining table. She quickly wrote the name of her clinical supervisor at the Harper Institute of Psychology on the front of the package, and popped the small blue drive inside, then sealed up the envelope without giving herself a second to rethink her actions. Winding the string around the button over and over until she couldn't get another loop out of it. 

As she held it in her hands, and felt the weight of Michael's mind, something inside hurt. She wasn't ready to say goodbye to him. Thoughts of his handsome face and sorrowful eyes filled her mind, as if he was somehow begging her not to let go - but she had to. She took a deep breath and pushed down the emotion within to depths were it could not be felt, and determinedly walked back to her bag to stuff the envelope into her bad. 

She had made a decision to drop all evidence of Michael De Santa off to her superior first thing on Monday morning. It was time to wash her hands of him, and draw a line under all that had happened. Without anything around to remind her of him -but the stupid thoughts and pictures in her head- she felt confident she'd put him in her past, where he belonged. 

"Good riddance." she whispered, brushing her hands together as if she was dusting them off after a job well done. 

Yet she found her eyes softening with sorrow, and a sigh threatening in her lungs, but she wouldn't allow it to escape. She wasn't going to feel bad about turning her back on him, it had to be done. It was for the best. 

She reminded herself how he hadn't shown up for his therapy session the day before, and that there had been no further attempts to contact her either. Unexpectedly he was doing exactly what she had told him to do on Vinewood Boulevard and she had to commit to her decision to push him away. She had to allow herself to consider the fact that he was as done with her, as she was with him. 

With a strangely unsettled feeling in her stomach, and a hurt in her heart, she moved back to the kitchen counter and picked up her glass of wine again. Taking a sip she let it linger for a moment, enjoying the feeling of the alcohol warming her insides and drawing relaxation ever closer, before moving back across the room to the patio doors. 

She wanted to sit out on the balcony and watch the dark ocean, but at some point during her bath it had begun pouring with rain. She muttered something to herself about the disjointed Los Santos weather, and disappointedly and took a seat on the lounger chair that had the best view of the outside world instead. 

Sitting up and looking out at the rain splattering the window for a moment before lifting her legs and relaxing back into the chair. Letting her eyes wander across her empty living room, lit only by two warm lamps and the dim moon light coming in from outside. 

Her eyes unwittingly caught on the coffee table besides her, and the small slip of paper that sat there looking back at her. She felt a soft groan roll through her throat and she sat up properly again, staring at the last remnant of him bitterly. It felt as if he was trying to have the last word again without even being there to speak it. 

She reached out and picked up the cheque he'd given her. Opening it up and looking at his surprisingly neat handwriting for the hundredth time. She had looked at it over and over again in the taxi that had taken her away from him the night he gave it to her. Wondering what her former class mate who went on to study graphology would make of handwriting. What secrets his hand could reveal to her. 

A smile tempted her lips, but she shook it away. She couldn't let herself think of him any longer. 

On a deep breath, she told herself she could manage without the two thousand dollars promised, and she folded the cheque again. Without thinking she tore it in half, then tore it again, then again, until the pieces were too small to do anything else with. 

A twinge of something cold pricked in her chest, but she ignored it. Tipping the pieces of paper onto the coffee table, and filling her hand with her wine glass again instead. She told herself that she'd done the right thing. She couldn't take payment for helping him ruin his promise to his wife. She couldn't spend money she'd earned by doing a bad job and failing him as a therapist on so many levels. Her conscience wouldn't allow for it. 

She didn't want to profit from her failures or his misguided attempts to make peace with her. She certainly didn't want to be another person in his life that took his money and chewed him up and spat him out. She couldn't take payment for messing him up in the way she knew she had. 

Confident she'd made the right choice to reject payment, she lifted her legs up onto the lounger again, and lay back with the wine in her hand. Hoping to shut off her mind and relax now all traces of him were marked for permanent removal, but she found her eyes drifting over to the couch. 

A recollection skittered through her mind, bringing back a memory of how he'd always chosen to sit there. How he'd looked longingly out of the window so many times during the visits he'd made to her home. 

Even though she'd moved furniture around since his last visit, she could still picture him there so clearly. Sitting and talking about his problems, opening his heart to her. Recalling how he appeared out of nowhere to help her to paint the wall around her fireplace. How panicked she was when she'd gone back into her house to change while he waited in her car after their moment together on the beach. 

It was ridiculous for him to have made such a mark on her home -having only been in it a few times- but it seemed the stains he'd left within those walls and on her heart wouldn't easily wash away. 

She took a deep breath and turned her head away, looking back out of the patio windows besides her. Watching the rain and lightening flickering over the stormy ocean. Sipping on her wine and renewing the promise to move on. Reassuring herself -just as she would with a patient- that time would heal all. That she'd get over him and look back and laugh at how stupid she had let herself be. She was going to forget all about him and the havoc he'd bought to her world and the disturbance he caused in her heart and head. 

Yet it seemed the envelope inside her bag had grown eyes. Burning into her angrily as she tried hard to ignore the urge to try salvaging something from the mess they were in. She wasn't ready to let go of him and the quiet hope she'd held for something more. 

The thought of never seeing him again made her stomach twist in knots, but the end had to come. Their connection both personal and professional was over. _It had to be._

The string was tied tight on the envelope, sealing away his secrets, until the next therapist cared to get themselves involved with his craziness. She hoped it would be someone better than she. Someone who could give him what he needed to overcome himself, but the information hadn't been requested by anyone else yet, and she wasn't certain if it ever would be. She felt as if she'd put him off therapy once and for all. What hope would he have of feeling like he could trust another shrink when she'd treated him so badly. 

Dry swallowing her regrets and remorse, she turned and reached out for the bottle of wine on the coffee table, moving to pour herself another glass, but she realized there wasn't much point in being polite about it. She put the glass down and drank straight from the bottle instead. 

"Classy, Cassie!" she joked with herself, as she let the controlled and mindful act she lived under disintegrate. Feeling herself inching closer towards her old, reckless behaviour that she'd tried so hard to bury. Her true nature slipping into the light from the shadows, powered by feelings of failure and the sinister encouragement of intoxication. 

She threw back enough wine to almost drown herself and gulped it down hard. She was determined to kill off the part of her that felt something, even if she had to give herself liver damage in the process. 

If she could get soothe the restlessness inside her and get to sleep without her mind running away to forbidden places, she'd be okay. If she could stay comatose through the night, and maybe Sunday morning would be easier. Yet she doubted the wine alone wouldn't be enough to help her tune out of everything for that long. 

With her limbs feeling a little fuzzy, she got up again and wandered over the fireplace. Reaching for a decorative box on the mantelpiece that contained a small baggie of marijuana and some rolling papers. 

She knew it was a bad habit, and that she was a hypocrite for indulging in any form of substance abuse, but the straight laced, clean living bullshit that was for Dr. Nardovino. Cassidy didn't give a shit about being a good role model or living clean. 

She took the paraphernalia back to the lounger and set about rolling a joint for herself. She knew from years of experience that she didn't suffer from the negative effects of the drug, and instead it was sometimes the only thing that helped her switch off and relax enough to ignore the demons and get to sleep. 

Even if the calming effects didn't last enough to soothe her for long, it was often the only cure to help make it through the hardest nights when she found her mind plagued of thoughts of her many mistakes from the years passed.

The judging voice in her head told her how awful she was, but she didn't want to hear it. "At least I'm not gonna wake up hungover with this shit." she said, her words a little slurred already from the alcohol consumption she'd indulged in since getting home from work. 

"I'm gonna forget that bastard ever walked in here. Chalk it up to another mistake." she told the empty house as she lit the joint and took the first sweet draw from it. 

Ignoring further invasive visions of him with some woman -who she assumed to be his wife- that crossed over her eyes, she exhaled. "Fuck him!" she said again to no one as she reclined back on the lounger. Bottle of wine gripped by the neck in one hand, and the joint returning to her mouth by the other. 

There were so many thoughts in her head, making her look back to places she'd run so far from. Voices of long forgotten faces and ghosts of deceased feelings skittering through her, somehow keeping time with the rain hammering against the windows. Like some disturbing rhythm which would have easily driven her crazy if she let it. 

She figured maybe some music would help distract her mind, but it was getting late and she wanted to embrace the escape she was chasing with booze and weed, not fire up her emotions again and undo all the mind numbing effects her vices had. 

If she could get through the night, the following day she could keep busy and maybe forget all about him before bedtime. If she couldn't, then she had plenty of oblivion stocked up in her house. 

By Monday things would be easier, she was sure. Once she dropped that envelope over she'd feel better and things would be easier. She just had to make it through the weekend and stay in one piece emotionally, and resist turning back on the path she'd resolved to take. 

She could just about feel herself letting go for her troubles and slipping down into a state of distorted serenity, when suddenly the buzzer to her front door rang out. Slicing through the silence on a crack of lightening outside. 

She jumped up, her eyes going for the clock on the far wall to see it was coming up on midnight. A burst of panic chilled her veins, as the oblivion she was chasing evaporated instantly, sobering her in a second. 

Her stomach dropped; something instinctive within her knew who was calling to her from outside. Her bodies reaction told her all she needed to know. As if some kind of tell-tale energy had been powered through the walls of her home and into her body. 

_He_ was out there, and she knew it. Just meters away from her on her door step - _again_ \- calling out to her, threatening to make her come undone once more, in the worst ways. 

Her stomach turned -unsure what to do- as all the fine hairs on her skin stood on end. Her wide, worried, eyes travelled over to observe the monitor on the far wall by the door. Focusing in on it cautiously, afraid to see what the small, black and white image showed. Uncertain if she dared to confirm what was waiting for her outside. As waves of troubling emotions crashed against her defences, saturating them and weakening their foundations.

She couldn't move. Frozen to the spot, as a red alert sent a shockwave through her emotions. She was afraid of what he'd come for, and terrified of what she might do or say in her confused emotional state. Something in the air told her that his presence would finally unleash the darkest parts of herself, all the things she'd tried so hard to control. She was too afraid to answer, too scared to even breath. Fearing he'd somehow hear and know she was inside - alone and vulnerable. 

The buzzer rang out again, and she flinched. His impatience acted like a dinner bell for her demons to finally come rushing to the surface, eager to pair up and dance with his. Impulsively her legs tensed, as if she was about to get to her feet but she stopped herself. 

Gripping onto the edge of the lounger, too afraid to go near the door or move a muscle - fearing he'd somehow sense her movements. She took a deep but silent breath, pushing back the flurry of chaotic emotions and thoughts to find some clarity, and weight up her options. 

She wasn't sure what to do or if she dared do anything at all, but as the rain splattered harder against the windows of her house, her guilt grew. She couldn't leave him standing out there in the cold, wet, night. She had to open the door, and let the wolf back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, that's it for now. I'm sorry to cockblock you, and leave you on a cliffhanger but it's all gonna kick off next chapter. As always, I'd love to know what you made of this chapter, and your thoughts/feelings on what's about to go down. 
> 
> Oh, and if you're feelings weren't hurt enough already, or you missed the update - Profit and Loss has a new chapter posted [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6530971/chapters/15388186) for your enjoyment. In which Michael gets a little bit of a loving, and a whole lot of heartbreak! :oP 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	24. True Colours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you all so much for leaving so many lovely comments and so much kudos on the last chapter. Y'all truly are the absolute best! I'm so sorry to have left you hanging for so long but I've been trapped in a vicious cycle of love and hate with this chapter. 
> 
> A lot of shit goes down and the characters really got away with me by doing their own thing. Both Cassidy and Michael's bad sides come out in full force, so I've been overthinking a lot of what happens during editing, but rather than pick at it constantly I figured I'd stay "fuck it" and throw it out there for you guys to read. I'm just gonna keep my fingers (and toes) crossed that you all enjoy this chapter as much as the others before it. 
> 
> So yeah, things are about to get real ugly between Michael and Cassidy and they're going to say and do some things that will change their relationship forever. So prepare for some harsh words and grown up scenes haha! Hope you enjoy, it's a long 'un! :o)
> 
> (And just in case you haven't needed it yet....[here's floorplan to Cassidy’s house](http://milliondollarmangta.tumblr.com/post/135638110245/cassidys-house) for visuals, if you need 'em!)

_All my life, one page at a time,_  
_I'll show you my, my true colours,_  
_No I won't apologize for the fire in my eyes,_  
_Let me show you my, my true colours._  
_It ain't no rainbow._  
**\-- Zedd True Colours**  


Cassidy sat staring blankly at the video intercom system on the far wall, which was blinking at her almost blindingly in the dim light of her living room. A long buried and childlike part of herself kept her sitting on the couch perfectly still, holding a breath like it was her last, as if she believe that doing so would somehow make her disappear or at very least - will her visitor away. 

Despite the silence of her home, the chaotic thoughts in her head were deafening. Caustic anger that wished him gone from her life mixed with a soothing sense of concern for his welfare, and together the partnership of contradictory emotions made her mind feel hazy. Preventing her from focusing on a solution to the problem that stood waiting by her front door. 

Not wanting to listen to the part of herself that worried about him, she tried to believe that he was fine out there. Standing around in the rain and thunder ;waiting impatiently underneath the yellow awning above her door. Probably soaked to the bone and agitatedly jiggling his leg and stretching his neck the way he did when he was getting riled up. Looking like the hopeless idiot he was; puppy dog eyes pleading for someone to pay him bit of attention. What the hell was he doing out there so late on a Saturday night? What horrors was he running from this time? And why the hell did her chest ache with the need to offer him sanctuary from it all. 

_'Fuck him!'_ her mind snapped. He didn't have the right to show up on her door step. Not anymore. Not that he ever did. 

Swallowing hard on the urge to rush out of the house to him, she pulled her eyes from the light and looked back to the coffee table before her. Reaching out to pick up the joint and relight it, hoping that the inhalation of smoke would suffocate the voice in her head that told her to throw the door open to him and let him into her life again.

As she held in the smoke her mind raced. Reminding her of the facts of the situation, and forcing her to realize there was no point in pretending to not be home - her car was parked just outside her front door on the driveway. Even though he's seen her take a taxi before, she somehow sensed that knew she was inside. There was an energy in the air that warned he could see inside her home somehow, that he was watching her sitting there clenching her jaw as she softly rocked back and forth, balancing on a hard pile of anxiety. The same feeling told her he wouldn't leave until she relented and acknowledged his presence. 

She released the smoke and sucked again on the hand rolled cigarette, keeping as quiet and small as she possibly could. Hoping with all she had that he'd leave as quickly as he'd appeared, but the second the concept formed in head the buzzer rang out again, making her flinch as if she'd heard a gunshot. One which showed his defiance for her wishes and his growing impatience. 

"Fuck!" she spat, snapping out of her introversion and leaning forward to angrily stub out the joint in the ashtray. A sudden firestorm had caught in her gut and fuelled her legs into standing up from the couch and pushed her across the room to the wall by the door. Riding helplessly on the ferocious impulses she'd tried to resist for so long.

She glared at the black and white monitor, stabbing her finger into the button besides it and barking out a bitter "What?".

Waiting for his response, her eyes focused in on the monitor properly and examining the sight of him waiting just outside, looking up at the tiny camera located above her door almost sheepishly. Even through the video image quality was poor, she could see the lost look in his eyes and it set off the need to go to him. Sending her caring side wrestling against the bitterness she felt towards him and for everything that had happened between them both since they'd met so many week earlier. 

There was a moment of silence, maybe two, before his voice came back to her. "It's me. Michael." he said tentatively, making her scoff. _As if she didn't already know who it was?_

"What do you want?" she asked firmly, irritation clear in her voice. 

Another moment of silence before he spoke, as if thinking of what to say. "Can I come in?" 

She sighed heavily, concern releasing a pressure value within her but the attitude she'd found stuck fast. "You're not supposed to be here. I told you not to come around here again."

"I know. I'm sorry." he replied, his voice lacking any fight. "I just....I need to see you."

Her mouth opened ready to tell him to fuck off -far and fast- but no sound came out. Instead she swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry as her skin swam with dozens of different emotions. 

She wanted to yell at him so badly - to cuss him out. Shout about how much she hated him for pulling her into such ridiculous and pointless situation. Vocally damn him to hell for making her feel so many aimless emotions and making her question every choice she'd made. 

She knew a heart-to-heart was well overdue, and the need to say all rapidly became all consuming. She needed to yell at him, release all her angry thoughts and confusion on him and let him struggle with the knowledge of what he'd done to her. She wanted to push him away and tell him to go back home to his wife. Order him to leave her alone and never bother her again, but of course she knew she'd tried that once already, and still her was there on her doorstep reaching out for her all over again. 

Her heavy eyes found the monitor once more and she watched him for a moment, his hand rubbing over the lower half of his face, as he danced from one foot to the other as if he was nervous. The very sight of him made the ache in her chest grow and spread out to take control over her limbs.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was reaching out to hit the green button, opening up her house to him. Her legs began autonomously taking her over to the interior door and unlocking it mindlessly. Propping it open without a seconds thought, leaving herself wide open for him to invade her life all over again. 

With all thoughts in her head frozen, she stepped back a few feet from the door, and instinctively began to nibble at her fingers. She didn't know what she'd done, or why she'd even done it. How she'd allowed herself to fly on impulse and leave herself open to his influence all over again, but she couldn't stop. Nor could she summon the energy to quickly attempt to undo what was clearly a mistake. 

Some unknown part of herself had taken over her logical brain and she was flying purely on feelings alone. Powered by the longing she felt inside and the need to see him, as much as he claimed to need to see her. 

Outside, Michael felt a relief like no other when he heard the lock pop on the large wooden door, and he didn't waste a second in picking up the small duffle bag which he'd dropped at his right side before letting himself in. 

Shutting the storm out behind him, he jogged up the short flight of stairs that lead to her door. Clutching his belongings tightly as he went, heading up to her home to live out the moment he'd been plotting in his head since making a decision about his life a few days earlier. 

He hesitated on the last step, looking up to the open interior door, the place looked so different. He'd never been inside in the darkness before but every moment he'd been in her home came flooding back to him. Making him recall the very first time he'd seen her. 

She had been standing just inside the doorway that morning, looking at him curiously as they tried to get the measure of one another. Him surprised by the fact she was a woman and she flustered by her unanticipated lack of control over the chaotic situation that first morning.

Her whole appearance had been so perfectly imperfect for their first time he'd seen her, hair up in a sloppy bun, her clothes smart in style but ruffled in appearance. She'd never let him catch her like that since. Not until the first time he's surprised her at home, walking in through her open door and up the stairs to find her dancing by herself, seeming so lost and free from all the troubles he sensed lay within her. 

He wished he could go back to that day and cancel out all the mistakes he'd made since then. Things would have been so much easier if he'd let himself run away with his feelings on that Saturday afternoon. Now though, he was left to force his way in and hope like hell that she'd hear him out. 

He took a deep breath, telling himself this was what he needed to do. That he had to get through to her once and for all, to treat the situation as he would a score. Do what needed to be done, say what needed to be said and hope with all he was worth that his calculated shot in the dark hit its target. 

He took the last step and turned into the interior door. His eyes instantly finding her in the shadowy light of her living room. She was pacing back at forth, arms folded across her chest. Her long dark hair down in damp ringlets, that had darkened the shoulders of her silk robe which one hand seemed to be gripped onto, as if she was afraid it might fall open like her mouth and mind were about to. 

He boldly took a step inside her living room and softly closed the door behind him, hoping that his dark brown leather jacket wasn't dripping rain water onto her wooden floors. Silence blanketed the room bringing with it a sense of awkwardness, as she refused to look at him, half turned away and nibbling her thumb as she warred with herself internally. 

Michael had spent two days planning out every word he wanted to say. Scripting some big grand gesture like he'd seen in a dozen movies. Words that would win her over and undo all the damage he'd done, but standing there before her he could find none of the words he'd hope to say. 

He'd driven blindly across town after leaving his crew at the junkyard in El Burro. He'd known it was a mistake to try going to her so soon, but he couldn't wait any longer. Staying away from her had started to affect so many corners of his life. He needed to see her, even if she was about to shatter all his dreams. Just to be around her energy once again and that offered the healing he needed after another heinous act. 

"What do you want, Michael?" Cassidy finally asked, trying to contain her anger by not looking directly at him but staring out through the patio doors to the stormy skies and twinkling ocean. "I thought I told you to stay away from me." 

"You did." he nodded softly, dropping the duffle bag besides a small table next to the door before taking a half step forwards into her living room. "But I don't think either of us really want that." 

Her eyes latched onto him for a beat, but quickly pulled away again, afraid of what she was revealing in her gaze. "You need to go." she said in almost a whisper, turning her body away from him again and moving over to the kitchen area. Trying hard to resist the urge to bite on the bait he'd cast out to her. 

Michael's eyes followed her, searching himself for something to say. He'd had so many words to give her, finding more and more to stay in the days he struggled so hard to keep away from her. Feeling so many things and wishing for a chance to voice them. Yet now he was presented with the opportunity he craved, he didn't know where to begin. Everything inside him felt still, and scarily calm. Forcing him to dig deep to find the explanation for his visit. 

"I've tried to stay away from you." he revealed, his voice soft and almost cautious. "I tried to stop thinkin' about you...This past week I've been convincin' myself to do what you told me...but I can't. It's been drivin' me crazy how much I need to be around yo-" she cut him off. 

"I don't care." she dismissed, her hands pressed flatly on top of the counter that divided her living room and kitchen. "I'm not interested in anything you came here to say to me." she told him. Feeling anger begin to bubbling up as she glared into her kitchen; struggling to pin back the demons inside that raced towards the light they saw through her lips. 

"Then why'd you let me in?" he asked, his tone almost smug. Causing her to glare over her shoulder at him, holding his eyes coldly for a beat before she looked away into the kitchen again. 

Michael swallowed, feeling as if he'd dodged a bullet in her silence, and he glanced around her living room to give himself a moment to breathe. 

She'd moved things around since he'd last been in there. Added a few new bits of decor in the form of plants and posters; putting her mark on the place heavier than he recalled. Even in the midst of the tension between them, there was something about the house that made him feel at home. Welcome and secure in a way that thousands of dollars of home security equipment and a family of his own never had. 

He searched the dark living room with his eyes as his mind scrambled to find a place to start, while she continued to stand in silence by the counter in her bare feet and distress clear in her posture. 

Something inside his stomach poked at him, made him feel bad for putting her in such an awkward situation but his eyes were too selfish and easily distracted. Catching onto the items on the coffee table, making him suddenly become aware of the smell in the room that said she'd been smoking, but not tobacco. 

"You been smokin' reefer?" he asked, with a hint of a laugh in his voice. 

"Why? Does that offend you?" she snapped bitterly. 

Michael sighed; he hadn't exactly expected her to be welcoming, but he didn't think she'd be acting so ruthlessly either. "No. You can do whatever you want." he told. "I ain't judgin' you. I just...I didn't think you were the type. Being a doctor n'all." 

"Yeah, well. Like I told you before, you could write what you know about me on the back of a postage stamp." 

Michael almost laughed, but the sentiment of her quip stung too much. She was right. He didn't know any facts about her but something in her eyes told him he knew exactly where she'd come from and where she'd been, and most importantly, where she wanted to go. 

"I didn't come here to fight with you." he told her gently, hoping to soften her mood. 

"So why did you come here, Michael?" she bit, turning around to face him properly for the first time. Glaring at him angrily with her big blue eyes, that showed more desperation than anger for a moment before turning darker. "You wanna sit down and have me listen to all your problems again?"

"No." he said, his eyes lowering. 

"So what then? You here to try and make me forgive you for fucking stalking me last week?" she asked angrily, taking half a step towards him, which for a second seemed like she was about to charge at him. "Or maybe..." she sang in a increasingly more spiteful tone. "You came over here to see if you could fuck me. Make yourself feel better and solve all your problems in my bed? That's why you're here, right?" The intoxicants hot in her veins were making her lips loose and her mind careless. "Life gets a little difficult so you go find someone to fuck your problems away with? That's what you do, isn't it?" she asked, her emotions trying desperately to crack her voice as she glared at him. All the thoughts and fears she'd been holding in taking over her mouth, the ones born from what he'd told her about the women in her life and his past indiscretions. 

"No." he dismissed adamantly, not liking how cruel she seemed. "I...I...." he stopped himself, truth was he did want to fuck her. He always had, but what had begun as some crazy hearts-in-the-eyes-horny-school-boy bullshit fantasy had grown into so much more, beyond the need to chase his lust and quell the raging sexual desires inside him. He tried to, but he couldn't see her the same as the disposable women who had passed through his life over the years, but he knew it would have been far easier if he could. 

He took a moment to gather himself and his defences. Glancing down to the duffle bag he'd dropped at his side. It felt like a time bomb. He knew he should have let Franklin or Trevor take it but he needed to keep control, even if it meant taking responsibility for their ill gotten gains. 

"I just needed somewhere to go, I guess." he offered to her. "Somewhere safe...with someone I can trust." she gave a huff of empty laughter, shaking her head and turning half away from him again, but it didn't stop him talking. "And I kinda missed you." 

She gave him a sideways look of disgust and cast her eyes away again. "You can't miss someone you don't even know." she told him refusing to let the burning in her eyes turn to tears. 

"Maybe not, but I know you." he assured. " _Kinda._ "

She laughed cruelly. "You don't have a Goddamn clue about who I am." 

"Then tell me." he snapped, throwing up his hands. "I'm fuckin' sick of feelin' like you get me, like you know how everythin' that I'm goin' through feels, but the minute that connection strengthens, you shut me out."

"Because I'm your fuckin' doctor!" she admonished, her arms flying free of their lock across her chest. "We are not allowed to do whatever it is you think we've been doing. Or whatever the fuck it is you _want_ to do. I'm not ruining my career for you." 

"I'm not asking you to." he exclaimed passionately. 

"Well it looks that way to me. Why the hell else come here in the middle of the fucking night?" she quizzed, angrily moving towards him. "Why follow me around like a controlling boyfriend? Why do you keep backing me into corners I'm not supposed to go into, if you don't want to fucking ruin everything I have."

He opened his mouth but for a beat no sound came out, she was so close to him now and so angry looking. "I....I don't want to do that, Cass." he dismissed. "I'm not tryin' to put you or your career at risk, I just-"

She cut him off, her eyes suddenly fixating on something other than him. "What's in that bag?" she demanded to know, glancing back to his face and seeing a strange look cross over his eyes, sparking her concern. 

"Nothin'." he lied. 

"Bullshit." she searched his face, quickly realizing that he must have driven over to her house. His car was probably parked next to hers on the driveway outside, so why had he bought a bag inside? 

"Did you ditch your wife and think you could come over here and shack up with me?" 

"Course not!" 

Something about the way he'd hardened his face said there was something important to the inconspicuous black duffle. "Then what's in there? Guns?... _Drugs?_ " she asked, giving him a moment to respond but he just stood there, jaw locked tight. 

"You asshole!" she cried, her tingling limbs rushed her forward, sweeping past him to grab for the and the bag at his side before he could mount a fight to hold her back. 

The truth was, he didn't want to stop her. He was sick of hiding the details of the bad things he did, if she knew, _she knew_. Maybe he'd feel better for it. Maybe if someone knew every single one of his dirty little secrets they wouldn't weigh so heavy on his shoulders. 

Bag in hand she quickly moved over to the nearest couch and dropped it down, unzipping it without invitation. Throwing it open to reveal a troubling sight inside. "What the fuck?" she exclaimed, shocked by what she'd found as she ran her hand through a pile of clear plastic bags of varying sizes, each containing one or more uncut diamonds of ranging in from the size of pin heads to the size of grapes. 

With her mouth half open in horror, she cast her wide eyes back to him. All words on her lips were frozen and all thoughts in her head shattered around her like a broken glass. 

"That job I mentioned, on the beach, couple weeks back..." he mumbled, bracing himself for her reaction. Unsure how much he wanted to reveal, or how much she could stand to know. 

To his surprise she started laughing, as if something had tickled her but then she suddenly stopped. "Is this a fuckin' joke?" she snarled. "You show up at my house, in the middle of the night, with a bag full of stolen diamonds, and tell me you're not trying to ruin my fucking life? Are you fucking kiddin' me?" she hissed. "You're bringing this Goddamn heat to my door? You selfish dick!" 

Before Michael could show any defence she picked up the bag and rushed back at him, shoving it hard into his chest. "Fuck you!" she spat. 

The impact of the bag against his body caused him to grimace in pain, and deflate to one side. The bag dropped heavily at his feet as he winced, clutching onto his upper arm which clearly pained him, a sight that instantly sent her cold. 

Her eyes scanned over him in a panic, noticing how his brown leather jacket hung a little loose on one shoulder, revealing a hint of the dark blue shirt underneath and a patch that appeared darker than the rest of the shirts fabric. 

Without hesitation, she stepped into him again. All her anger was pinned to the floor as the overwhelming need to help him took her under. Gently she pulled back the leather to see what had happened to him, as he stood there silently, just watching. 

Sure enough his shoulder was black with blood, but there was no damage to the shirt fabric itself. Suggesting he'd changed somewhere between the heist and her front door. "Jesus Christ!" she muttered. "What the hell did you do?"

"It's a scratch. I'm fine." he told her but he wasn't. _Everything hurt._ He was too old to fight like he had that night. His legs, especially his knees, burned from running. His arms and hands hurt from firing his assault rifle, the joints of his fingers seemed to throb. Even his ears hurt from the noise of gunfire but more than anything his head hurt. Stinging from the heaviness of guilt and regret, but not as much as the ache in his chest for her and the pain of confusion that she put in his head. 

"Sit down." she insisted. The fear of him being injured took over everything else she felt in that moment. She couldn't be angry at him while he stood there bleeding, his welfare had somehow become her top priority. 

Without holding back, she carefully guided him around the heavy bag at his feet and away from the door. Leading him over to the couch where she had been sitting a few minutes earlier. As the scent of her shampoo and body lotion curled into his nose and seemed to anesthetize the pain in his body. 

As soon as he was safely seated in the sofa, his back to the dark ocean outside, she hurried to the main bathroom upstairs. Bare feet moving fast along the corridor that was lit by the moon above through an arched glass roof. 

The bathroom was still humid from her boiling bath a few hours earlier, as she grabbed the little green first aid kit in her medical cabinet, an unopened bottle of iodine and another bottle of generic painkillers. Hoping it would be enough to fix the damage done to him. 

The only thought in her head was making him better as she rushed through her house to get back to him. Returning to the living to find he'd taken off his jacket and was easing off his blue over-shirt to reveal a bloodied black t-shirt underneath. 

Refusing to listen to the warnings that were growing ever louder inside her head, she hurried into the kitchen. Putting the things she'd gathered on the counter for a moment while she found a glass and filled it with water for him. 

She refused to give herself a moment to think about how foolish she was being, and quickly gathered everything back up in her arms. Hurrying back over to him and ignoring the sensible side of herself that found a voice to tell her that she was being an idiot. 

She was too afraid to acknowledge how all her common sense was stomping around inside her, yelling about how gullible she was and demanding she kick him, his cut arm and his diamonds out onto the street. 

She dropped everything but the glass of water on the sofa besides him which she handed to him before quickly pushing a space clear on the coffee table, so she could sit in front of him. Stopping only to turn on a table lamp besides the couch before shuffling into place before him. Settling just a few centimetres away from him -her knees between his- as her eyes found the gash on his arm, just under the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. 

His eyes ran all over her, taking every inch of her pretty face in. The concern in her eyes warmed him inside. He couldn't remember the last time someone cared enough to tend to his wounds, he barely remembered caring enough about himself to tend them with his own hands. 

She looked so beautiful and tender in the soft light of the lamp. The black silk robe she wore caressing her delicate curves, low in the neck to reveal the deep valley between her breasts, making his skin prickle with desire. 

"Here. Take these." she told him, cracking open a bottle of painkillers and tipping two into her palm to hand him. His finger tips grazed her palm as he took the pills, such a simple touch sent a rush of warmth through her. "This is gonna hurt." she told him, pulling her hand away. Watching as he swallowed the pills with the water and placed the glass on the table besides him. 

"I've had worse." he told her on a swallow. A hope in his head wished the medicine would ease the aching he felt from head to toe and somehow give him the strength to make things right with her. 

"What the hell happened?" she asked, as she opened up the kit in her lap and putting on some disposable gloves and looking up at him in the way she would look at him over her glasses during their sessions. "And no cryptic bullshit this time." 

Michael sighed heavily; he wanted to throw the first aid kit out of her hands and kiss her right where she sat, but he owed her an explanation and she was too vulnerable to take advantage of in that moment. He didn't want to blow the chance she'd given him. He needed to show her that he trusted her, and above all he wanted her to know his secrets and shames. 

He need to tell someone about the shit he'd done. He'd only ever been able to properly speak of his crimes with those who helped him commit them and that was never enough. He'd tried to share his sins with Amanda once, but even though she'd listened to him talk and promised her silence in the moment, she thrown it all back in his face the very next argument they had. 

Of course, he had no reason to believe Cassidy wouldn't do the same, but something in her eyes encouraged his trust to root itself in her deeper than ever before. 

"A buddy of mine... _Lester_....he's sick and he ain't been doin' too good lately." he recapped. "He's usually real smart with his money but he got cocky and somethin' went wrong. He screwed up on the stock market and needed to recoup some money to help him out and pay for his treatments and stuff...." he revealed, relieved that she seemed to be listening closely. "He found a shipment of smuggled diamonds coming through one of the airfields in Blaine Country." he told, watching closely as she prepped his treatment. "He offered it to Trevor and Frank to do alone, and they didn't really need my help, but they wouldn't do it alone and I still feel like I owe Lester." he confessed. "I let him down when I went into witness protection, and he kept my secret without being asked. I had to do right by him." he insisted and Cassidy gave a soft nod. "There's gonna be enough money comin' out of that bag to cover him for years, I ain't even taking a cut but I wanted to help him." She looked up at him, with those condemning eyes of hers. "Don't say it." he dismissed, looking away guiltily. "I know it don't make it right." 

She didn't even want to ask him why he kept doing it, she already knew. It wasn't about helping a friend, or getting rich, it was just about the buzz. Feeling alive, reminding himself that he was capable. Keeping that fire inside him stoked and letting him remember that he wasn't a normal guy, and never would he be. 

"Hold still." she told him flatly, reaching out with some iodine soaked gauze and touching it to the wound. 

"OW! FUCK!" he yelped, sucking in air through his teeth. 

"Serves you right!" she told him coldly. "Stop doing this kind of shit and you won't get yourself hurt." 

Michael chuckled faintly through a wince as she wiped away the blood to reveal the small but sore looking gash in his arm. It was uncharacteristic for him to knowingly enjoy any kind of chastisement, but somehow when she told him off it felt oddly right, like he'd craved something like that his whole life without ever knowing it. 

He focused in on her, watching as she delicately tended his wound. Cleaning away all the blood before drying it gently with a fresh piece of gauze. "It's not as bad as it looked." she told him, relieved it had already stopped bleeding. "At least I haven't gotta dig out a bullet." she muttered to herself. 

"Bet Shrink School didn't teach you that, huh?" he teased. 

"No...but a misspent youth did." she told cryptically and his curiosity piqued, but before he could open his mouth to quiz her she took his hand and pinned it against his arm. "Keep it there." she told, arranging his fingers to pinch the two sides of the wound together. 

He watched intensely, mesmerized by her as she fished out some skin closures from the bag and set about peeling them off. Reaching into him and carefully sticking them in strategic places across the thin gash to help it heal. Her brow slightly furrowed and a little hint of tongue parted her lips as she concentrated on doing a good job. 

Michael smiled inside at the sight of her. She looked so cute in her concentration, her expression contrasting the others he was more familiar with when she was in professional mode. Just looking at her made him feel so oddly warm inside, and he seemed to forget his pains. Both that which stung his arm and everything that ached inside. 

Next she got another piece of dressing and a bandage and carefully manipulated his big hand to help her hold it in place as she wrapped it around his thick upper arm, covering and protecting the wound as best she could. Her soft finger tips touching his skin sent gentle crackles of pleasure through him, feasting on the tenderness she showed him. Something he'd been so hungry for, for so long. 

"You're all done." she said warmly. Sitting back and removing the plastic gloves she had on. "It's not deep, so you'll live." 

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" he asked, having got the vague impression that she would have wilfully killed him earlier in their encounter. 

"Jury's still out." she told, trying to be cold with him but the wounded look on his face was crippling her. 

"I have really missed you." he whispered, looking over her face. Her pretty blue eyes that hid so much from the world. 

"Don't." she told him. "I just patched up your arm. This doesn't mean anything." 

"Really?" he asked, his voice low and raspy as his eyes focused on her mouth and her full -tempting- lips. 

"No." she dismissed, feeling a deep haze starting to fall over her. "Nothing can happen between us. I'm your doctor, and I'm not a home wrecker." she told him. 

"I told you before," he looked into her eyes. "...there's no home to wreck." 

A rush of warmth came over her as she looked deep into his eyes. She wanted to pull away from him, to get up and put as much distance between her and him as the house would allow, but before she could move a muscle, his right hand was came up. Slowly reaching out to her and tenderly brushing her damp curly hair back from her face with his finger tips before softly cupping her cheek. Such a simple touch sent rampant warm shivers racing down her spine. His blue eyes looking into hers so intently as he steadily guided their heads together. 

A quiver rushed through her stomach, emptying her mind of conscious thought, as her eyes fell to focus on his mouth that was closing in on hers. Thin lips that said he was an angry man; lips she'd wondered so often about. Questioning so many times if they'd be hard or soft against hers, how they'd feel touching the skin of her neck and inner thighs. 

Then suddenly there was nothing more to see but darkness as her eyes closed. All she could feel was the warmth of his lips against hers, so surprisingly soft and delicate. Tender and almost hesitant in the way they tempted her to let go of every shred of resistance she had left, as her hand came up to touch the back of his that cupped her face. 

He heard a weak little whimper escape her throat as her mouth and body gave to him. His free hand reaching for her knee as he gently coaxed her mouth open little by little. Their breathing faint but ragged as delicious tension consumed them, snapping the last shred of hesitation they both held. 

Thoughts of all the risks and wrong they were doing fled in fear, as the spark caught between them and ignited the passion they held inside. Suddenly, the gentle and uncertain tension exploded into hungry and passionate need. Desperately their mouths locked together and he pulled her into him, pinning her torso flush against his. 

Her mouth gave to him and softly he searched for her tongue with his own. Brushing against her teasingly as she moaned softly into his mouth. Her hands grabbing for his forearms, as if afraid he might pull away and end the moment of bliss she'd longed for. 

Their skins ignited as the kiss deepened and lust fuelled static engulfing their heads, as her tongue found confidence and began to tease his back. The heavy stubble he wore scratched at her chin as he kissed her, pressing firm and deep. Enjoying the softness and warmth of her as electric tingles consumed every inch of his skin. 

His hands moved for her hips as he sank back into the couch and bought with him. Guiding her hips towards him, encouraging her to raise up just enough to transfer from the coffee table across to straddle his thighs in one fluid motion, in which they didn't break the kiss. 

As soon as she melted into his lap he felt his jeans tighten, intensely warm sensations swelling through his abdomen and legs as her heat settled over his. Her hands found their way into his thick dark hair, as his stroked needy hands under the parting of her silk robe, caressing her firm thighs for a moment before moving up to pick at the knot in the matching belt. Kissing deep and desperate as their mouths and hands drank in all that they could of each other. 

There was no hesitation to hold them back now, all that mattered was the magical warmth they found in one another's touch. Kissing deeper and deeper with each second that passed. His large, strong hands uncovering her bare torso, and caressing her sides with rough palms as she pressed into him needily. 

With nothing to control her but natural instinct, she began to grind against him with ever increasing need. Rubbing her lace panties against the hard, denim covered lump beneath her, as the rush of finally letting go and giving into her desires consumed her. 

He growled low in his throat, the feel of her pushing against him was intense. Every part of him was on fire as his hands ran higher up the side of her slender body, gliding over the smooth skin to find her breast concealed behind a lace bra. 

He felt his body tense; he'd never been so hard in his life just from kissing. Her lips felt better than he'd imagined in the thousand versions of that moment he'd had in his dreams and during his time alone. Every ounce of pain in his body lifted away and leaving nothing but excitement buzzing in his veins. 

Weeks of tension were finally being released and it felt incredible. The feel of her hands in his hair, and down his neck, caressing his strong shoulders and solid chest through his black t-shirt as she rubbed her need insistently against his. Her lips so soft but so hungry, silently demanding he give her everything he had. 

He ran his hand around her back and searched for the fastener for her bra, eager to take things to the next level and taste the parts of her that he'd fantasized about since meeting her. Yet his fingers were clumsy, his mind having drifted from all conscious thought and control. 

The way she smelled -a fruity shampoo mixed with the twinge of booze and herbs- intoxicated him. Every muscle in his body tightened with desire; he wanted her so badly it was becoming painful. Lust interrupting his higher brain functions and making it almost impossible to focus on anything but kissing and touching every part of her he could easily get at. 

He felt as if he was drowning in her, and he'd never experienced such bliss. The feel of her lips and delicate small hands touching and kneading at him drove him wild, spurring him on to give her more and more. 

Somehow he found enough clarity through the lust to push the robe off her shoulder and carefully he pulled down the strap of her bra. Breaking the kiss softly to move his mouth to her neck, pressing his lips against her sensitive skin, kissing hungrily as he travelled down to find her collar bone, before moving further down to her breast. 

Planting wet kiss after kiss over the plump flesh before pushing back the lacy fabric and finding her nipple. His mouth covered it and sucked gently, making her moan out with pleasure into the silent house. Her hands tensing in his hair as she rolled her hips over him again, encouraging him to go further as his mouth teased her. 

Cassidy found herself biting her lip, her head rolling back as he kissed and licked at her breast. Her mind misting over with the affects of sensations she'd forgotten how to feel. His touch was electric. Every graze of his hand and press of his lips drove her wild, and fed her hunger for more. 

Desperate with need, she let her hands drop down between them, and began to fumble haphazardly. Searching eagerly for his belt buckle, as her body tingled intensely with need. Gathering a frantic energy which would only be soothed by finally feeling him inside her. 

The warmth and scent of him made her skin prickle with desire, as she felt heat building and building between her thighs. Parts of her began to throb with a need she couldn't ever remember feeling so intensely, and through the haze of lust she somehow managing to unlock his belt. Her eager hands grazing over the hard bulge that waited for her inside his jeans. 

He groaned low in his throat. His mouth breaking away from the skin of her neck and attacking her lips once more. His tongue rubbing hungrily against hers as she fumbled with his zipper. His large, strong hand firmly squeezing at her breast, the pad of his rough thumb grazing over her nipple making her moan into his mouth again and press into him desperately. 

Blindly she managed to unhook his belt from the buckle, hand hurriedly drew down the zipper, wasting no time in reaching inside to touch what he had to offer. He growled deeply as her fingers brushed his cock through the cotton of his dark coloured boxers. One hand suddenly grabbed at her waist and the other took to the back of her head, pinning her against him tighter as if he was afraid she might float away. 

She melted into him all over again, grinding herself against him with more force as she felt the moist heat building rapidly at her center. Desperate to feel him touch her in the places she'd fantasized about so shamelessly during the nights when her determination to resist thoughts of him escaped her. 

He broke the kiss pulling back just for a moment to look at her, as if he was wondering if it was all just another vivid dream. One he'd wake up from and have to rush straight into the en-suit bathroom for a cold shower. But she was there, _really there_. Touching him back, straddling his lap, rubbing herself against him, encouraging him to do as he wanted with her. Blue eyes full of hunger and her body hot with need. 

"Fuck!" he gasped, reaching up his left hand to cup the side of her head once more. Crushing her lips with his, making her dissolve into his arms. Their bodies moulding together, as close as could be. 

She pushed into him, kissing him deeper than before, more urgently. Her hand reaching up to join his besides her face again, her finger tips caressing over the back of his palm they kissed, as her free hand squeezed his shoulder while his kneaded at her hip. The cloud of heat and tension between them began to swell bigger and brighter with each second, but then she felt it. 

The band of cold metal around his finger. The one that acted like tripwire for the oblivion in her mind, yanking her out of the moment harshly and switching her conscious back online. Alarm bells clanging in her head as the security shutters slammed down around her, flushing her body with ice as the skeletal hand of guilt and fear stroked down her spine. 

"Stop!" she cried out, pushing herself back from him. His eyes glassy and wide as they stared back at her in shock. "We can't do this." she told him desperately. 

"Oh, I think we can." he gasped, his mouth in a lazy smirk as he grabbed for her hips again to pull her close, but she pushed his hands away. 

Before he knew what was going on or how to keep her close, she was climbing off him. Pulling up her bra strap and quickly gathering up the sides of her robe to fasten it shut. Skulking away from him to the other side of the room as if disgusted by what she'd allowed to happen. 

"You need to go." she told him, as she adjusted her clothes. Covering up every hint of skin that she could. The heat inside her slowly quickly cooling and freezing up like water in an ice cube tray. "I can't do this with you." The tone of her voice revealed she was raw with emotion before covering her mouth with a shaky hand to stop herself revealing anymore. 

Michael's mouth tightened angrily, as he struggled to properly surface from drowning in the lust he felt for her. "You want it as much as I do."

She turned back to him, glaring at him as he sat glued to the couch. All the thoughts she'd had since she met him -all the warnings she'd tried to listen to- it all seemed a hundred times louder than ever before. "It doesn't matter what I want, what I _need_ is for you to leave. You need to go home to your wife." 

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?" he barked, jumping up from the couch and fastening his jeans painfully. Furious that she was denying him and herself what he knew they both wanted so desperately. 

"No. I'm not. I can't do this with you. It's wrong! You're...you...." she gasped, her body torn in two dramatically different directions. Her heart and body wanted him like never before, the animalistic look on his face tore through her, but her head and gut had flooded too deeply with the reality of the situation she was walking into. Reminding her of how he was a married man, with two children. Old enough to be her own father too. A man who killed people and stole whatever he wanted. Every inch of him was trouble that she didn't need or want in her life. "....I've been trying to avoid men like you for eight fuckin' years."

"Whadda ya mean? _Men like me_?" 

"Bad boys. Gangsters. Fuckin' criminal assholes." she barked, clutching at her robe again under his predatory glare. 

Michael laughed mockingly, shaking his head for a moment before rubbing his hand over his chin thoughtfully. "Didn't you just tell me a few minutes ago, _ya know_ , just before I put my tongue down ya throat, that you had form on diggin' bullets out of people?" he asked, leaving a beat for her to follow where he was leading. "So who's the fuckin' real criminal here, Cass? What the fuck are you runnin' from?" 

"Fuck you!" she spat, refusing to reveal herself to him. "You show up here, manipulating me into caring about you, expecting me to make you all better by letting you get your dick wet." she said viciously. "You might think it, Michael but I'm not a fucking idiot!" 

"It's not like that at all." he defended, trying not to wince against the unrelenting sensitivity in his jeans. 

"Oh please! I start buying your bullshit now, there's no telling where it'll end." she ranted. "I didn't see it before, but now....Jesus Christ! You're exactly like my dad and all the men I grew up around! Showing up here after doing God knows what! Making me feel sorry for you. Expecting me to shelter you from yourself and whoever's after you. Trying to latch on to me because you fucked things up your first wife and want a do-over.... I'm not going to make the mistakes my mother made." 

For some reason that struck a nerve at his core. "Oh now it all makes fuckin' sense!" he barked, moving out from the sofa to near the fireplace where he could pace up and down. "Daddy was a bad man too, huh?" he said spitefully. "Yeah, I knew you were that type. I could see it right from the get-go, fuckin' judging me. Bet you didn't have any problem spendin' his blood money when it got you those fancy certificates on your wall though, huh?" 

She glared at him furiously. "You don't know the first Goddamn thing about me. How fucking dare you."

"I can take a wild guess, sweetheart." he growled. "You know my kind, and I know yours. Thinkin' you're somehow morally superior 'cause you ain't the one who's gotta get ya hands dirty to bring in the money you got no trouble spendin'."

She gave a bark of laughter at how utterly wrong he was. Her hands were dirty alright, her hands were as bloodied as his own. "Yeah, and it'd be just another thing you've got fuckin' wrong in the warped sense of reality you live in." 

"Oh really? _Really?_ " he stomped closer to her as she stood defiantly in front of the kitchen counter. "Well how the hell does someone as young as you get to call themselves a doctor, huh? Whose dick d'ya hafta suck to get that title? _Huh? _" he bit.__

__"You really are a fucking asshole." she glared at him._ _

__"I'm just being honest, sweetheart! When you boil it down, you're just a glorified hooker anyway." he shot, with a wave of his hand. "Puttin' on an act for an hour, chargin' guys a couple hundred bucks to make 'em feel better about themselves."_ _

__She laughed bitterly but was strangely unsurprised by how cruel he was being. She should have known he'd be that way- they were too alike. Their egos so often spoke too loud over logic and truth, allowing bitterness to speak falsely instead. Not caring for the damage their cruel words could do in the name of soothing themselves._ _

__There was no way she'd spill her life story at his feet, but his apparent malice for her pushed the words from her mouth. "Everything I have, I worked for." she barked back, stabbing a finger at herself. "I had to change my life, and make something of myself to survive. I didn't want to end up leeching off the world, taking what wasn't mine." she said nastily in judgement of him, as he glared at her. "I actually went out and worked every fucking day to make something of myself. I didn't cheat my way to success and I didn't lose myself in the struggle either, because I wasn't gonna let myself become a bitter, self-loathing scumbag like you!"_ _

__He was silenced for a moment, gobsmacked by how she finally spoke her mind and revealed so much of what she thought to him, but the pause only lasted a moment. "So what? You became a fuckin' head shrinker instead, so you can tell _'self loathing scumbags like me'_ what a shit stain on the world they are? Sit around judgin' people and chargin' 'em two hundred bucks a pop for the fuckin' privilege?"_ _

__"I never judged yo-"_ _

__"Oh fuckin' bullshit!" he dismissed throwing up his arms, turning away and pacing back near the fireplace. "You judged me every Goddamn time I set foot across your fuckin' door!" Cassidy went to speak but stopped herself, there was nothing she could say if he thought that of her._ _

__Michael turned back to face her, an expectant look on his face. "So you're not gonna deny it? I fuckin' knew it!" he roared, arms flailing. "I did what I had to do to survive. I got myself in this fuckin' mess by tryin' to do right by people who never gave a good fuck about me." he began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. "...Is it so wrong that I wanted to make somethin' of myself _the easy way_ 'cause I couldn't fuckin' handle workin' so hard for somethin' only to fuckin' fail at it again? Huh?" he puffed. "....Am I supposed to be evil for makin' mistakes for the good of my family? Am I not allowed to want better for myself than what I'm stuck with?" he paused for a beat, looking to her for a comment but her lips were buttoned shut. "Is it wrong to want to try for somethin' more with you, someone that I thought actually gave a fuck about me?" his voice almost cracked with emotion but it wasn't enough to get through to her. _ _

__Those last words resonated with her in a way she was scared to feel. "You don't know what you're talking about..." she mumbled, looking away._ _

__"Clearly I don't." he growled. "...Obviously I just got swept up in that bullshit therapist act...and like a fuckin' idiot, I told you more about myself than I've ever told anyone, 'cause I thought you were someone I could trust...and for a minute, I thought you were legit and that you felt somethin' for me under that fuckin' mask you wear, but I knew all along it was all some big fuckin' charade." he confessed, hitting a nerve with her and making her turn her head back to glare at him. "You don't give a fuck about me....you're just in it for the money, just like the rest of 'em. And you're a fuckin' fake like everyone else in this Goddamn town."_ _

__He stopped pacing and glared right at her, sending a shot of burning acid through her throat. "Oh, and you're so fucking real, aren't you?" she spat back. "The retired bank robber who's whole life is a fucking lie. You don't get to stand there and preach to me about being honest, when it's pretty clear you couldn't lie straight in bed."_ _

__His mouth fell open to retaliate, but no words came out which was fortunate, as she wasn't half way done. "The guy who's trying to start up an affair, preaching to me about fucking honesty." she scoffed, a hollow laugh escaping her lips as her mind raced to form all her worries and concerns about him into words._ _

__"You wanna know what you're problem is, Michael?" she snarled. _Really?_ " He lifted his chin as if he was ready to take a punch to the jaw, goading her into speaking her mind. "You don't give a shit about anyone but yourself! _Your_ feelings are the only ones that matter and everything always boils down to what _you_ want and how _you_ feel, consequences be damned for anyone else who gets caught in the crossfire." now it was her turn to pace besides the counter that divided the room, pointing at him angrily as her mouth ran away from her. _ _

__"You have every tool you need to change your situation in the right way and do the right thing for once, but you can't be fuckin' bothered to try. Is it too much like hard work for you to consider the damage you do to other people with your selfishness?" she lectured him, cutting where it hurt the most. "Jesus! You're so caught up in hating yourself that you turn everything good in your life into something toxic. You're so desperate to be punished for the shit you've done, for the shit you _CHOSE_ to do," she exclaimed. "...that you can't handle it when you think something good might be happening to you...that you might actually change for the better...so you find a way to twist it up and piss all over it so you get to punish yourself even more and blame someone else for it." she threw at him, ignoring the sheepish look he wore on his face as he stood beside her fireplace, his figure half cast in moonlight. _ _

__"You get off on suffering..." she continued, unable to stem the tide of angry words pouring from her mouth. "....and you get off on making it everyone else's fault!" she snarled at him, not hesitating to spare his feelings as fire began to glint in his eyes. "You play pretend like you hate the burdens you're under but you do nothing to help yourself. You just make it worse because you love playing the victim. But every problem you have, you created!" she carelessly tossed bitter words across the room to him, subconsciously noting the way his jaw clenched and his neck stretched as if he was ready for a fight, but she didn't care. She was done with his bullshit, and she didn't care how badly the truth hurt._ _

__"So, get off the fucking cross already!" she spat. "...The smell of burning martyr is making everyone around you sick!"_ _

__With those words, something inside him exploded. The red mist he feared crashed down before his eyes, causing the pressure in his head to swell and force his heartbeat into pounding in his ears. He suddenly felt as if he was outside of himself, as his right arm raised up and his foot pivoted, sending a fist flying out into the chimney breast besides him._ _

__"Fuck you!" he roared in rage, punching into the plaster of the wall above the fire place. Cracking the paintwork and ruining the piece of her home that they'd painted together a couple of weeks earlier._ _

__A strange kind of relief hit Cassidy as she heard the almighty impact of his big fists against the wall. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, and it was almost as if she could feel the power of his blows from across the room, but she was too angry with him to be shocked or truly afraid of his rage._ _

__His fist drew back and punched out again, smashing through the paint and into the void behind. Rage blinding him which gave her chance to hurry. Scurrying over to the corner of the room, a safe distance from his whirlwind of rage._ _

__As she watched him put a hole through the wall that had unknowingly become a strange symbol of their fragile bone, she could feel a thousand different and conflicting emotions flooding her vein. Blurring her vision but bringing her intrinsic defences floating up to the surface._ _

__Michael had no control over what he was doing, as all the anger he'd kept bottled up for so long unleashed in the worst way, bitter rage bought to boiling point from Cassidy's words. So much anger from that night itself and the weeks before it. Fury for all things in his life, from the criminality that had bought him to her, to the emptiness his family bought to him and all the agony of his past, and the wrongs he'd done, and more. All working together to expel his fury on the wall until he was spent._ _

__His attacks slowed to a stop and his arms dropped as if someone had cut the power. His strained growls of anger replaced with gasping breaths as his arms began to burn. The cut in his flesh had pulled painfully against the closure strips Cassidy had stuck in place and the damage to the wall had split the skin on his knuckles, which stung a toxic reality into his head._ _

__He suddenly realised what he'd done -what he'd let himself become again- as the red mist lifted again from around his eyes and bought a blinding brightness to the room. Revealing to him the destruction he'd caused, that was accompanied by an intense burning in his chest that felt something like guilt._ _

__All the rage he'd repressed for weeks, maybe months, or perhaps even years, had come flushing out without restraint. Turning him back into the person he'd regularly been so many years ago. His anger and frustrations directed at the wrong person, but someone who had pushed his buttons to hurt him nonetheless, simple because he'd hurt her._ _

__His stomach turned with regret as his mind went to Cassidy again. He'd gone to her for help, to prevent him turning into the monster he knew he truly was inside, but instead her harsh truths had unleashed a side of him that he'd spent years dosing with sedatives in the form of detachment and distractions from his family and twisted past._ _

__"Jesus Christ." he gasped, running bloodied hands over his face. His white hot anger cooling rapidly, to make way for a feeling that was close to nausea._ _

__He couldn't remember the last time he'd lost it so badly. He'd become so used to swallowing his anger and being passive aggressive at home for the sake of survival, that he thought he'd almost forgotten what kind of devil truly lived inside him._ _

__Feeling shame climb onto his shoulders, he turned slowly, an apology ready on his lips, but he found her as far as from him as she could be, on the other end of the room. Unknowingly expected her to look scared, or angered, something he was used seeing as a result of his fury breaking free of its restraints but instead, he just saw her icy blue eyes looking back at him, full of nothing but disappointment in him._ _

__He dropped his head, looking at the split skin on his knuckles, then looking down at himself. The state he was in, what he'd allowed himself to become because someone had dared to see him for what he was, and speak the truths he'd tried to deny for so long._ _

__"Cass, I'm sorry." he mumbled as he looked up, his eyes finding her again, but his focus reached the barrel of a gun first._ _

__"Get out." she told him flatly, her voice dark and detached. Glaring at him with a fire in her eyes that he'd never seen before, she looked chilling. Whoever was now in her body was not the young woman he'd come to know. Her own devil was staring back at him viciously now._ _

__"Cass?" he questioned almost pleadingly. "I'm sorry...I...."_ _

__"Get out." she said again, the calmness in her voice was creepy._ _

__"Just let me explain. Gimme-" she cut him off._ _

__"I'm not giving you anything else." she almost sounded like she was speaking with a child. Her control was unnerving, calm and effortless like she's detached every human part of herself from the moment. "I'm not your wife, I'm not your girlfriend, I'm not your mistress, I'm not even your fucking friend. I was your therapist and you never paid me enough money to put up with this kind of shit from you." she told him. "You do not get to come here and do this to me. So get out of my house, and don't you ever come back!" her voice was so calm but her eyes were practically glowing with rage._ _

__He'd seen chilling but controlled tempers like that before, he'd sensed it within her the moment they met in that very room nine weeks earlier. Something about her had always warned that behind her pretty face was a dark side. Years of running with shady characters had schooled him on how the most controlled and calm people were always the most explosive, the most dangerous and unpredictable when provoked. The kind that killed everyone in the blast radius when the final thread inside them snapped._ _

__He opened his mouth to speak again but she pulled the hammer back on the gun and settled her grip. There was no denying that look in her eyes. She'd killed before, and in that moment it seemed she had no problem with doing so again._ _

__"A'right." he relented, raising his hands in submission as he started to move. She backed up and cleared a path for him to get to the door. Keeping the gun trained on him the whole time he made his exit, quickly picking up his shirt and jacket from the couch, along with the duffle bag before making a move for the door she'd already opened for him._ _

__He looked back at her, holding her eyes for a moment as if begging for another chance to explain himself and apologise for his rage, but she wasn't there. Whoever was looking back at him was inhabited by the darkness he'd sensed inside her, and it chilled him. Cassidy had checked out, and he needed to get gone before whoever was in her body lost what little control they had left on their own temper._ _

__"I'm sorry. _Truly._ I would never hurt you." he gave her, but it wasn't enough. _ _

__"You already did."_ _

__Her words dropped through his stomach like a stone, leaving him cold and aching. With one final sorrowful look at her, he stepped out of the door and softly closed it behind him. Leaving her alone in the silence and uneasy atmosphere that marred her home._ _

__She remained in place, still pointing the gun at the door for one minute, then two, and before she knew it she'd lost track of time. The world around her fading away as she stared at the blank space where he once stood. Her body frozen to the spot and her thoughts lost in a haze of long buried rage._ _

__She felt so much anger from what he'd done, for coming to her in such a way that night. Frustration for how he stirred up so much chaos inside her. Making her remember all she'd tried to forget; Bringing up the devil inside her that she'd tried so hard to cage over the years._ _

__Her arms began to tremble, and it shook her from her haze. A clarity coming back over her as she realized what she'd done. How cruel she'd been to say such things to him. How easily she'd slipped back into her old ways and allowed herself to become the spiteful, vicious person she once was in her youth. She knew the moment he walked in to her life that he was bad for her health, but she didn't think he'd cause such a relapse._ _

__She thought she'd learned to bite her tongue, and never speak her mind, but something about him broke down her walls and left her no place to hide. He'd come to her for therapy but now it seemed she was the one who needed it once again._ _

__Anger management classes, to help her unlock and control her natural character traits that once kept her alive as she ran with wolves. All the years of repressing her inherently aggressive and antagonistic nature; building up walls inside herself to ensure her stability in a new placid life. It was all for nothing when her defences were so easily crushed under his provocation._ _

__His own flaws and rage had sent her tapping straight back into her own destructive behaviour and impulsivity, just as she always feared he would. Leaving her questioning if she had enough strength or love for herself to rebuild the cage that kept her true traits concealed._ _

__She had recognized so much of herself within him as he lay his heart on the line and lashed out in a strange form of self defence, but she couldn't be certain if she had it in her heart to look beyond what he'd shown her that night to find forgiveness for him and hope for them to repair the damage._ _

__She stood frozen to the spot in the moonlight as an eerie silence fell on the small beach house. The eye of the storm had settled overhead, quietly warning that the battle for the future of their relationship was far from over._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you all enjoyed the update, in all it's bumpy and over dramatic glory haha! As always, I would love to know your thoughts and feels about what's happening between these two hopeless idiots haha! And, I hope you're all not _too_ mad at me (or Cassidy/Michael) for hurting everyone's feels. Love you guys xoxox 
> 
> Oh, and also...The lovely and talented Subtlequirk wrote me a beautiful one-shot fic for my birthday last month called [The Difference](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7234456) and it features a look back on Michael's past loves which includes Cassidy (and also an appearance from Jacqueline my original character in [Profit and Loss](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6530971)) in the most wonderful way, which will hopefully help give you some hope that all isn't lost between them after this chapter haha! Please check it out and show Subtlequirk some love, but prepared to have your feels go on a bit of a rollercoaster, there's a happy ending though, I promise hehe!


	25. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! First of all, I wanna say a huge and heartfelt thank you to everyone who showed their love and support on the last chapter, it means the world to me and I am so terribly sorry to have kept you all hanging so long for this chapter. 
> 
> My life has been chaos lately as my workload increases significantly over the summer break as part of my day job involves running activity groups for kids while school is out. So making time to writing/edit has been near impossible as I'm constantly stressed out playing catch up with my other jobs/responsibilities, but it's a holiday weekend here and I finally got a chance to do one last edit of this chapter. I do so hope that you're all still out there and that you'll enjoy round two between Michael and Cassidy. 
> 
> This chapter is pretty huge and to be honest, I'm not completely happy with it but I don't want to leave you guys waiting any longer. There's a lot to work through between these two, as they've been bottling so much up and this is the point where it all come flooding out - so prepare to get soaked with feels hehe! 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! :o)

  
_Calm me down, bring it round,_  
_To way high off your street._  
_I can see, like nothing else,_  
_In me you're better than I wanna be._  
_Don't think cuz I understand, I care._  
_Don't think cuz I'm talkin', we're friends._

_Over ground._  
_Watch this space._  
_I'm open, to falling from grace._  
**\-- Six Underground by The Sneaker Pimps**  


Cassidy lost track of how much time had passed in the silent darkness of her home, but she knew it couldn't have been too long. The storm was still raging outside against her patio windows, her hair was still damn and her heart was still pounding as her mind pulled her in two separate directions. One tugging her down into the familiar shadows that she tried to run from, as the other tried to tempt her back towards the light and hope his touch had promised in their moment of carelessness. 

Her head felt empty and full all at once; spinning around as if she'd just stepped off a carousal, but at some point in the aftermath of her anger, she'd managed to find her way into the kitchen. Making the unconscious decision to ditch the wine she'd been drinking and pulling out a bottle of whiskey from under the sink instead. 

The burn of malt liquor -sipped straight from the bottle- was soothing. Giving her a feeling to anchor herself to in the hazy numbness that overcame her, as she found her way back to the couch and let herself sink under the mists that swirled in her mind. Picking up the remainder of her joint and lighting it, to inhale the calming smoke, which did absolutely nothing to settle her. 

The blast of adrenaline that Michael's appearance caused had shaken off the initial affects too easily and her nerves were too shot to have a hope of clicking back into the relaxation she'd attempted to reach before he'd descended on her doorstep. 

He'd unknowingly smashed through something within her and it would take weeks -maybe longer- to even come close to putting herself back together inside. He'd weakened the structures within her that she'd spent eight years building, and she knew it would have a direct impact on her life. Her dedication, her drive, and her resolve to ignore the part of her that craved the immoral thrills the life he lived had to offer. 

_'You're so fuckin' stupid.' _she hissed at herself, her Liberty City accent strong in her mind as she stubbed the joint out in the ashtray and picked up the bottle of whiskey again. _'Shuda fuckin' known this would happen. Why you gotta fuck everythin' up - every time. Can't help yourself, can ya?!'_ her inner voice scolded, just as it always had whenever she messed up epically. The harsh condemnation opening up old wounds from her childhood and adolescence. Scars that had been cut into her skin by the words and actions of the people who shaped her, and helped make her the twisted mess she felt she was. __

__Her failure to be strong and resist her urges tasted so bitter, but it wasn't as caustic as the harsh reminder that she wasn't the mild mannered -stable- professional she fooled people into seeing and herself into believing._ _

__Underneath the mask was someone who was equal parts violate and aggressive as they were fragile and anxious, and she hated him for peeling back her layers to reveal the contradictory sides of herself which she'd tried to bury. However, she guessed she deserved it - after all, it was only what she'd been doing to him for weeks during every one of their sessions._ _

__Trying hard not to listen to the negativity growing ever louder in her head, or feel the pressure on her shoulders pushing her under, she sank back into the couch and breathed deeply. Trying to calm her mind and silence everything inside her. Focusing hard on settling her emotions the way she'd been taught herself and the way she showed so many of her patients._ _

__Her eyes stung with tiredness and tears, but she wouldn't cry. She'd done enough of that to last a lifetime and crying over stupid mistakes was a waste of effort. Effort that would be better spent on focusing on how to rebuild herself again. How to repair of the stone sarcophagus that she covered over her former self. The one that had cracked the moment he pushed her too far. Frightening her with how easy it was for her guard to slip and let him see everything she tried to hide. Bitterly reminding her how quickly she could sour with venom and switch into a murderous rage when triggered._ _

__She focused on the silence of her house. Her dark, lonely house. The one that was supposed to be her sanctuary and her clean start but had instead proved to be her undoing. Suddenly the familiar urge to pack up and run away came over her. Realizing how it would be so much easier to ditch everything and leave, like she always did whenever he past caught up to her._ _

__She could make another promise to herself to learn from her mistakes and put Los Santos in the dust. Start again one more time and paint her mask on thicker and fuller so it wouldn't be cracked. Keep away from people who were bad for her and resist stepping back down the rabbit hole of danger and chaos that she once loved so dearly._ _

__The very thought of leaving made her feel exhausted and she sighed heavily. She couldn't go through it all again - not for him and the ridiculous situation she was in. She wasn't going to let him or her own stupidity ruin the life she was trying build and nothing was beyond repair. She just needed to get him out of her head and stop letting him near. The less she was tempted towards trouble and reminded of the person she'd always been behind the mask, the quicker that person would wither away and die._ _

__She slowly started to lose herself in the quiet again, her emotions still warring underneath a blanket of eerie calmness. The darkened silence of her home slowly bought her back down to peace and bit by bit the noise in her head began to muffle under the flood of alcohol in her veins, but then suddenly an odd tinny chirp rang through the house._ _

__It sounded like a cellphone, but it wasn't her ringtone - of that she was sure. It was raining too hard to be anything from outside the house too, but it sounded too distant to be in the room with her. Upstairs maybe, she wondered, but then recollection hit her like a truck._ _

___That bastard was still there._ _ _

__The shock stoked the embers inside her and suddenly her anger was ignited again, she jumped up off the couch, and grabbed her gun from the kitchen counter. Angrily storming over to the interior door and throwing it open in fury, and taking two heavy steps out into the landing area before stopping dead in her tracks the instant her weary but enraged eyes found him._ _

__His was sitting a couple of steps down the staircase, his back to her and his head held heavy in his hands momentary before he looked up and turned a little to glance back at her. Revealing so much sadness in his eyes which came down on her like a bucket of cold water thrown against her fiery rage._ _

__He noticed the gun in her hand first, and swallowed hard. "I know I'm not supposed to still be here." he said on a sigh. "So if you're gonna shoot me, just do it. I don't care anymore." he insisted before looking away again._ _

__He felt so ill inside, like some part of him had been ripped out, leaving a gaping hole in his stomach and no idea how to fill it again. He'd screwed everything up so badly and unintentionally hurt the one person he didn't want to._ _

__He'd got his hopes so high, thinking that she was the one for him, the light that he'd been searching for. After so many years of feeling nothing inside, all the emotions that had been awoken inside him for here had been overwhelming. Confusing him and running so deep so fast that he didn't know how to handle any part of the situation. Then, just as he always did, he'd foolishly ruined another good thing in his life and failed at achieving another goal._ _

__Everything he'd been hoping for over the past nine and a half weeks had gone up in smoke with his inability to keep his hands to himself and not rush to the finish line. Everything he'd unknowingly pinned his future hopes on was all in ruins because he'd misread the signs and jumped the gun. Looking again for the easy answer and the quick fix which had bought him nothing but trouble in the past._ _

__Feeling the urge to apologise to her again, he looked back up to where she'd been stood at the door but she was gone. In her place was only a glow of moonlight coming from the door to her home, left open and silently inviting him back inside._ _

__He didn't know if he should chance it and go back in, but he guessed some part of her must have wanted him to offer him another chance. Otherwise he felt sure he'd be lying dead at the foot of the stairs with a bullet in the back of his head._ _

__Feeling strangely nervous and unsure, he stood up. Quickly making a tactical choice to leave the bag full of diamonds on the steps, thinking it best if he didn't risk angering her with it again. He carefully placed his jacket and bloodied overshirt on top of the duffle bag then slowly skulked back into her house. Looking sheepish; like a scolded puppy seeking forgiveness and a scratch behind the ears._ _

__In the dim moonlight pouring in through the patio windows, illuminated her living space just enough for his eyes to find her. Stood leaning against the end of the kitchen counter that divided the large room, an offset backdrop of low lighting from under the shelving on the far wall of the kitchen etching out her figure in the dark._ _

__She was still dressed in her black silk robe, arms crossed over her chest, her face like stone. Long dark hair heavy with damp as she stood staring into nothingness, with the gun at her side on top of the pale granite counter._ _

__With a deep breath, he softly closed the door behind him, hoping she'd look over to him when she heard it click shut, but she didn't flitch._ _

__He stood in place for a moment, feeling a burning sting bite at the wound on his upper arm while his left leg unconsciously began to jog and the awkward silence in the room settled itself down around him. It seemed to weigh down so heavily, as he searched for a place to start. A million jumbled words swarming around in his head as his eyes found themselves falling on the fireplace and the whole that he'd punched through the dry wall above it. Bringing up a bitter taste of guilt and shame in the back of his throat. A sensation that urged him to speak and pour out his every thought and feeling, as an instinctive part of himself warned that if he really wanted her he couldn't give up the fight._ _

__"I'm sorry, Cass. I'm a fuckin' asshole." he eventually blurted out. "I know I shouldn't have come here, or put you in that position. I just...." he hesitated too many words pilling up in his mouth with no way to filter the right things to say from the wrong._ _

__His leg jiggled a little faster, showing his impatience and frustration with himself, there was an urge inside him to start pacing but he didn't dare move. "...You know I don't know how to express myself properly unless I'm wound the fuck up and..." he offered, able to see that she wasn't going to buy any of his excuses from the way she was standing. Arms across her chest, clutching the sides of her robe, with her head turned away, like she didn't care to listen. His shoulders sank but somehow he wasn't yet defeated._ _

__"I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to push you like I did either." he continued, honesty stronger in his words than he could ever remember it being in the past. The drama of the score he'd pulled off and the storm he'd been through in her living room had made him weary, and with tiredness came open hearted honesty "I'm just..." he hesitated again, but inside he felt one of the ropes restraining his control snap, and words began falling out. "-I'm just so confused by you and how you make me feel. I let everythin' get mixed up inside me and-" his thoughts clogged up in his throat and his voice dropped into a sigh. Irritated by how he couldn't put his inner feelings into words properly without the assistance of anger._ _

__"Look," he said softly. "I know I over stepped the line. I'm just afraid of losin' you and it all piled up on top of me and everythin' came out as anger, and...." he stopped himself again with a sigh, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable in his own rambling exposure. "I say and do mean shit when I'm hurt, Cass. I'm sorry."_ _

__His sorrow wasn't cutting through her anger, but it came close. "I get that you're always on some mission to ruin everything in your life and self destruct, but you didn't need to drag me into it." she said sensitively without looking at him._ _

__"That's not what I wanted. I'm sorry it looks like that." he said insistently, bravely stepping a little further into the living room and closer to her. "I didn't mean for any of this. I didn't mean for you to see me like that 'specially. My life is so fucked already and I thought you could be the one to fix it..."_ _

__She finally turned her head fully to him, glaring with judgemental eyes. "I'm not some magic pill, Michael. Fucking me wasn't going to miraculously make all your problems disappear."_ _

__"I never thought that it was."_ _

__"Seems that way to me." she told him, still looking at him with stern eyes. Trying to ignore how good he looked in the black t-shirt with blood stained sleeve and jeans that fit him just right, the sight of him and the sensations his presence bought with it sent the ghost of his touch skittering up her spine._ _

__Swallowing hard, she wished for him to throw back some kind of defence but nothing came. "I'm not the right person for you to get attached to," she spoke out. "-and whatever you're feeling about me, it's not what you think it is. It's not real."_ _

__"You're wrong about that." he insisted, annoyed that she was returning to the original excuse she'd given him on Vinewood Boulevard a week prior. "I've never felt anythin' more real in my whole fuckin' life. I've never felt anything close to this before 'cause I don't caught up in feelings for women I'm attracted to, but you..." he shook his head, unable to explain how deeply she'd burrowed into his brain since the moment they met._ _

__She breathed deeply through an ache in her chest. "That's just it, Michael. You're attracted to me physically, so in your head you've created some idealistic personality to go along with-" he cut her off._ _

__"That's fuckin' bullshit!" he barked, throwing out his arms angrily, almost wincing against the pain of the gash on his arm. Pain which only seemed to fuel his urge to pour his every secret out on her floor. "I know when someone's fakin' with me. Fuck knows I see it enough at home with my wife." he gave. "I see who you are and I feel like I know yo-" she jumped in._ _

__"Ten minutes ago you told me I was a fake, and that I'd tricked you and now you telling me you know who I am? What the fuck?" she hissed._ _

__He blew out an angry sigh, waving his hand dismissively. Unable to explain or charm his way out of how complicated everything had become. "Look, I was pissed, okay? I can say really mean shit that I don't mean when I'm angry and scared." a strange sense of vulnerability shimmered in his eyes before he looked away. Casting his eyes out to the ocean, taking a moment to find some of the clarity and the strength he needed to be vulnerable and push on. "I'm just so fuckin' confused by all this pushin' and pullin'." he looked back to her with eyes that almost pleaded for her forgiveness. "-'Cause all I know for sure is that when I look at you somethin' inside me clicks and I feel like we get each other...."_ _

__Cassidy swallowed a sigh, refusing to cave to his confession. "What you've seen, and who you think you know - it's not who I am."_ _

__Michael frowned, confusion and anger dancing together in his mind again and threatening to cause another explosive outburst. "So what? You tellin' me you _have_ been fakin' this whole time?" a million unexpected twists from all the movies he'd seen came rushing to the forefront of his mind. _ _

__A wave of something resembling panic swelled through his gut, triggered by the way she wouldn't look him in the eye. Concern pushed him forward into taking two steps closer to her, his hands itching to grab her and shake the answers he needed out of her._ _

__"Are you a cop?" he spat out. "Or a fuckin' Fed? Some shit like that? Has all this been some elaborate way of makin' me fall for you so I'll confess to my crimes, and now you're gettin' cold feet in takin' me down?"_ _

__She shook her head exasperatedly, rolling her eyes at how foolish he sounded. "Don't be ridiculous. This isn't a movie, Michael. There's not going to be some big plot twist with dramatic violin music."_ _

__"Then what the hell is goin' on here, Cass? Tell me why I feel this way about you if everythin' I know is wrong?"_ _

__Cassidy snapped, her strength to maintain a calm demeanour collapsing like a house of cards. "Who you saw just now...that's me." she growled, stabbing the air with her finger. "The nasty, vindictive bitch who can't handle being hurt or confused so she lashes out. That bitch who told you some home truths? That's me." she exclaimed, poking herself in the chest. "The real me doesn't sit calmly and bite her tongue to play nice. That's just what I do for a living, but that's not who I am." she warned him, telling him only what he'd already guessed. "And I got too many of my own issues to get caught up in handling yours too. You and I-" she hesitated for a moment, hating how good that phrase felt on her lips. "We'd be toxic for each other." she warned._ _

__"You're wrong about that." he insisted, ready to take on anything._ _

__"No, I'm not." she dismissed. "Two damaged people do not make a fixed whole one and two volatile people won't make a calm one." she warned. "I've spent so long tying myself up in knots trying not to be who I was, and you come along and try to unravel me. I can't have that." she explained, her eyes as sad as his heart felt. "Every day of my life is a fucking struggle to keep a level head and not let myself be a reckless asshole. Forcing myself to say in the light and not go back to the dark." she explained, piquing his curiosity about her all over again. "I'm not that mild mannered, accepting woman you go to see for an hour a week and I'm not strong enough to handle this kind of bullshit off the clock." she insisted, trying as best she could to convince him - _and herself_ \- that he needed to get away from her. "We'd be the worst type of disaster for each other, Michael. In every imaginable way." _ _

__She gave him a moment to speak, to acknowledge what she was saying but he stood silent. His expression sorrowful and his mouth slightly open, as if one of the million questions she could see swirling behind his eyes was about to jump out._ _

__"I don't believe that." he simply said._ _

__"Of course you wouldn't, because you've convinced yourself that I'm someone I'm not." she continued. "-You're projecting onto me. Thinking that there's something between us because I'm your shoulder to cry on and the person who listens. You've confused my professional interest with personal ones. You're making me into what you think you should have had with your wife." she didn't know how she was managing to find a spooky level of calmness and clarity but she was. It felt as if she was reading from a script, as all the books she'd read and the warnings she'd heeded in her classes took over the forefront of her mind._ _

__Yet deep down beneath all the protocol, she knew every word she spoke was bordering on subterfuge. Her personal truth used in a way to try to out manoeuvre him and evade his attempts to crack her._ _

__"It's not that at all."_ _

__"Then what is it?!" she snapped in frustration. "Because you can't have real feelings for someone you don't fucking know." her voice almost cracked, emotions raw and desperate for him to convince her of what she was trying to deny. She wanted to be wrong about what she'd assumed but the idea of being close to someone like him scared her too deeply for her to loose go of her resistance._ _

__Michael sighed raggedly, irritated by how she was blocking his every move as the ache in his heart that long to hold her grew ever stronger. "Look..." he called softly, letting his mouth run free without anger propelling it. "Before we met...I was ready to settle for the shitty life I'd made for myself. I'd got the movie gig, and that felt like that was as good as it gets. That it'd be enough for me to get by....I mean, it's a great distraction from the bullshit at home and it _was_ helpin' me survive it and not get eaten up by how fucked my life still is." he revealed his voice unsteady in the depths of his honesty that he'd only reached before in the sanctuary of her office. "Then I met you and I realized I ain't got shit unless I have someone who cares about me, someone to share things with and someone who actually fuckin' gets me. Somethin' about you made me believe there was still somethin' better left in this world for an asshole like me. This disconnect I've felt my whole life goes away when I'm around you." he confessed candidly. _ _

__She turned her head away from him, crossing her arms again and bringing one hand to her mouth where she began to nibble at her thumb nail. Afraid to hear what he was telling her, and how it matched what she'd been feeling inside. Her nervous body language showed him that she was weakening to his will and it encouraged the truth inside him to push forward._ _

__"Whenever I'm around you..." he continued. "...Especially when you're being yourself...like right here when we painted that wall, or out there on the beach..." she looked back at him with a glint of surprise in her eyes. "It makes me feel somethin' I can't explain, but it's kinda like the way I feel when I'm out there doin' crazy shit. It just feels right."_ _

__She gave a huff of hollow laughter, not wanting to believe anything he was saying. "Get close to me, and that'll wear off pretty quick."_ _

__"No, it won't!" he barked, getting annoyed with her constant deflection and refusal to give in to what he believed they both wanted._ _

__"Yes it will!" she snapped back. "Because all you've really seen of me is some mild mannered, understanding ear, who sits there while you vent at her. What you saw tonight is me." she warned. "And you'll get real tired of the intolerant bitch, who shuts down because she doesn't know how to be close to people anymore, who says mean shi-" he cut her off._ _

__"But everythin' you said was true."_ _

__"Exactly!" she cried. "And the reason why it was true is because I can read you like a book. Because we're too alike, in all the wrong ways. I see me in you and you in me. That's why you're here right now, and that's also why it would never work. When my guard is down I'm too volatile, I'm too damaged to get caught up in this shit, and so are you!" She nibbled lightly at her bottom lip, feeling anxious and lost for ways to discourage him. The more he spoke, the lower her guard sank, making her fear for her self control._ _

__Michael scrubbed his hand over the lower half of his face. "I think you're makin' excuses." he let out, unwilling to acknowledge her concerns that he knew were valid._ _

__"Of course you would." she sighed, throwing her hands up. "Because for you, it's always someone else's fault."_ _

__Michael swallowed hard, trying not to let his temper get the better of him again. He knew what she was saying was partly true. He also knew how much she was hurting, how hard she was trying to fighting to make the right choice._ _

__Showing her that he could be a decent person and control himself and not lose his cool in the face of provocation, he softened his voice and took half a step closer. "Listen," he called sensitively. "I know this is fucked up. I wish things were different in my life so this wasn't so complicated but I can't let this go, Cass." he insisted, hoping to break through to her. "You think you've been hiding it but you haven't. I've known all along that you're livin' two different lives, that you're running from somethin'." she turned away from him a little but it didn't deter him. "Somethin' in me knows that you work so hard to avoid gettin' close to people 'cause you're scared to be yourself. I can tell that you've had to repress things to survive in the world out there. And I know that, 'cause like you said, you're the same as me." he gestured keenly between them. "Somethin' in your eyes has always told me you know just where I'm comin' from 'cause inside you live with the same kinda shit that I do."_ _

__She refused to let him see he was right. "No. Your dick is telling you there's a connection here to make you think I'm the answer to your problems, that's all."_ _

__"Bullshit!" he dismissed angrily, turning away from her. Getting furious with how she was constantly shifting the goal posts whenever his words came close to landing with her. "If there was nothin' between us that shit wouldn't have happened on the couch just now." he angrily pointed at where they'd been locked up in each other moments earlier. "And it wouldn't have felt so fuckin' good either." he gave her enthusiastically, and she looked away again - shy and afraid of the truth._ _

__"Listen," he called to her, hoping not to trigger her rage again. "I'm not gonna lie to you, it started that way, for sure. The moment I saw you I wanted to fuck you, and I ain't stopped thinkin' about it since then either...." he sighed, his body still pent up from the things her touch and warmth had done to him. "But it's more than that now." he defended. "Talkin' with you has meant the world to me. I feel a connection with you that I can't explain and I don't understand where it comes from. You make me act crazy because I don't know how to handle what I feel for you." he admitted, hoping she'd look back at him but she didn't. "I'm sorry I acted out and let you see me get like that, but it all piled up on top of me...right fuckin' on top and I...." he trailed off. "You know what I'm like."_ _

__She cast her eyes down at the floor, trying not to hear what he was telling her. Doing her best to tune into the voices of her professors and the books she'd read. The logic that told her how risky it was for entertaining the idea of being with him and how he was likely saying all the things she wanted to hear because of his ability to manipulate and charm. Abilities that Friedlander had warned her about extensively in his clinical notes._ _

__Michael felt acidic anger begin to bubble up in his chest again. Annoyed by how she was wrestling against his every move; refusing to look at him like she was ashamed to hear what he said._ _

__"Do you even care that I can't stop thinking about you? All the Goddamn time!" he asked bitterly, waiting for her to respond for a beat but all he got was the sight of the side of her head and silence that pushed him a little closer towards another outburst. "When I'm at home, I go on your fuckin' Life Invader just to see your face." he confessed. "I tried makin' my nightmares into dreams of rescuin' you from whatever the fuck you're runnin' from. Jesus Christ, I nearly fuckin' killed two different guys just for gettin' close to you." he blurted out, relieved that she looked up at him with her face turned into a curious frown, showing that she was listening after all._ _

__"Jesus Christ, Cass..." he sighed. "I've been checkin' my bank account ten times a day wonderin' if you cashed the cheque I gave you, just to know you were still out there...I've never felt this way about anyone before, not Amanda, not Jacqueline, not any woman I've ever met. I don't know how to handle this shit and I don't know what it means, but don't fuckin' tell me I'm projectin' somethin' onto you, 'cause whatever this is, it's all new to me but it's real as shit." he said adamantly._ _

__Something in his speech had caught her curiosity, turning her ears deaf to the wider truth he was dishing out. "Who's Jacqueline?"_ _

__Michael kicked himself mentally; years earlier he'd promised himself never to say a damned word about her to anyone. He'd never mentioned that shadow in his past to Friedlander. Hell, he hadn't said anything to anyone about her since she walked out on him back in the early nineties._ _

__"It doesn't matter." he avoided. "What I felt for her, ain't nothin' like this!....Fuck, Cass - I usually I run the other fuckin' way the minute a woman even _thinks_ about tellin' me her life story, but with you....I wanna know everythin', about who you are, where you're from, what the hell fucked you up as bad as me." he was speaking so candidly that it felt strange on his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so open with someone about how he felt for them, but he knew there was no other way to reach her than to dig deep inside himself and lay all his cards on the table. Yet his words seemed to have no power, she was locked down and seemingly impenetrable. _ _

__"You know," he asked out to be sure she was paying attention. "-I coulda found out everything about you from my buddy Lester. He woulda had your bra size within an hour if I'd asked him to, but I didn't, 'cause I want _you_ to tell me who you are." he told her honestly. Still unable to believe he'd resisted putting in a call to his hacker friend who would have revealed all Cassidy's secrets to him and soothed his curiosity. "I wanna know you like you know me-" _ _

__"Stop!" she snapped, cutting him off. Hating how his words were tapping into exactly what some deeply buried part of her desperately needed to hear. "This all sounds like a fuckin' obsession."_ _

__"Is that what your books say? Huh?" he barked back, he angrily gesturing to the extensive bookcases housed in the area under the stairs. Furious that he'd his cut himself open for her, to let his heart fall out on her kitchen floor, only for her to kick it away. "...Then mark me down as fuckin' obsessed, baby!" his voice was raspy with frustration and something close to embarrassment for being so open about his feelings._ _

__He wasn't the type of person who spoke about his emotions easily. It was far easier for him to bottle them up and dwell on them in his own head until they exploded out of him in a half-assed, but wholly wrong way._ _

__Weeks of second guessing and over analysing every word and action between the two of them had filled him to breaking point. He had so much to say, so much she needed to know. There was so much burning in him that he felt sure would convince her to give in, if only he could find the right way to express it._ _

__"Listen." she demanded, taking the stage. "You think you wanna know who I am, but trust me - guys like you don't like girls like me."_ _

__"Waddya mean?" he frowned, confused by the change of tone._ _

__"Girls who have pasts. Girls who aren't perfect and have issues of their own. You want some blank page, who's not going to question you. Some the obedient little woman who keeps your house tidy, and cooks you three meals a day and-"_ _

__"Where the fuck did you get that idea?" Michael frowned._ _

__"I grew up around dozens of guys like you."_ _

__"Yeah? Well, I ain't like them." he said, his eyes promising her things neither of them were entirely certain he could deliver on._ _

__She shook her head dismissively with a breathy laugh, having anticipated his exact response. "You can't tell me that because I don't think you even know who you are." she revealed. "You've spent so long telling lie after lie, and spinning story after story. How the hell do you expect me to believe what you think you're feeling about anything?"_ _

__"Fuck you!" Michael spat. "I ain't never been more honest than I'm being with you right now." he angrily jabbed his finger down at the ground to enhance his claim, but Cassidy shook her head indifferently._ _

__"You need to let this go."_ _

__"You think I ain't fuckin' tried?" he yelled, throwing up his hands in frustration. "You think I fuckin' like feeling like this? Bangin' my head against a Goddamn wall with you? This shit ain't what I do. I don't go fuckin' nuts over women." he bellowed, beginning to pace in front of her. "No one gets in my head like this but you....Jesus fuckin' Christ, Cass. Why'd you think I kept showing up here? Being around you makes me feel...." he stopped pacing and trailed off, not sure of the right word to use to fully express how he felt while he was in her company and the after effect it had on him. "....if I knew how to stop this shit, I would, because I don't like, and what you do to me scares the shit out of me, but it ain't goin' anywhere and I don't know how else to handle it without you."_ _

__"You can talk about it with your new therapist. He'll tell you how crazy you sound." she hated to use that word, but she knew little else would sink in for someone like him. Her resolve to push him away was weakening more and more with each word from his lips._ _

__"Maybe it is crazy but I don't give a shit, because _I am_ fuckin' crazy!" he roared, before softening his voice a little. "....and something tells me you are too!" _ _

__"And that's why we'd be toxic for each other." she snapped. Needing to poison the good he'd done with words of confession. "The problem with you and Amanda, is that you're too much alike. For all the wrong reasons. In exactly the same way we are."_ _

__Michael's fists and jaws clenched with anger for the way her defences ducked and weaved out of the way of his blows. "Bullshit! The ways you and me are alike ain't nothin' like me and Amanda."_ _

__"Really?" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows. "Do you not remember me standing over there a few weeks ago, and arguing with you over your career path? Telling you how your choices had fucked up your children? From my understanding that's exactly the same behaviour your wife exhibits."_ _

__Michael thought for a moment, she had a point that didn't make her right. "But the way you do that...the way you pull me up on my bullshit...it's nothin' like how she does it. What you say makes sense, and you can call me out on that shit, 'cause you give me a way to put it right and you ain't responsible for it or addin' to my fuckin' burdens."_ _

__"Not right now, but if you....if _we_...." she trailed off. "I don't wanna be a part of the problem for you and your family....and I don't wanna be Amanda-two-point-oh."_ _

__Michael shook his head, getting more and more frustrated with her constant resistance, but he knew he had to fight. In the past he'd had to win more than his fair share of hearts and minds. His wife, to give him another chance when she'd found him cheating. The FIB to let him have wit-pro his way. All the marks he'd picked out and tricked, then subsequently robbed. He talked, and charmed and bamboozled so many people over the years, but he'd never felt as driven to convince them as he was with her. He'd never used so much of his own truth to bring someone round, but with her it was the only weapon he seemed to have._ _

__"You wouldn't be." he insisted. "...'cause I know that you get it. That you get me. And this life! Whatever it is that's behind your eyes knows what the fuck I've done, and how much it's cost me. You know who I am and when you call me out on my shit, you're not takin' pot-shots at me to hurt me, you're tryin' to make me a better person. You're talkin' 'cause you know what it's like to be me, not 'cause you're mad that I'm not livin' up to some expectation you had that I didn't live up to."_ _

__"And so how will me doing _this-_ " she gestured between them. "-with you be helping make you a better person?" she asked firmly. "How is us standing here talking like we're planning out a full blow Goddamn affair helping you be a better person, Michael?"  
"I dunno..." he mumbled, edging towards being ashamed of himself for slipping into such a conversation. The reminder that any relationship they did forge outside of her office would be illicit made his stomach roll with worry. _ _

__Cassidy turned away from him, unable to believe they were talking as if they were about to start some kind of official relationship, and hating how he'd seen every single detail she'd tried to hide from him since they met. Troubled by how he was so effortlessly working her for every angle._ _

__Control of the situation was slipping from her grasp, and she felt herself slowly sinking into his promises. Wanting to desperately to be persuaded of the things he was trying to sell her, but she had to pull back on the reigns and try again to encourage him to realize how bad an idea the whole thing was._ _

__"Stop trying to convince me, _and yourself_ , that getting caught up in this is right for both of us. It isn't. It would never work." she warned, glancing back at him to see the sorrow showing on his face. She had to push him away, and do her best to counter his compelling arguments and kill off what foolish hope he had for happiness with her. "I'm a split personality, just like you, and you couldn't handle that on your best day." she warned but he didn't seem dissuaded. "You think Amanda drives you crazy now?" she laughed emptily. "You have no idea what it would be like with me some days. Whatever you feel is part of a fantasy and reality will never match it."_ _

__"Let me be the judge of that." he asked, taking half a step towards her._ _

__"I don't want this, Michael!" she cried, turning to face him and stopping him in his tracks. "I don't want to be a fucking fling. Another mistake for you to feel bad about yourself for and I haven't got it in me to be your secret mistress." a strange expression crossed his face instantly telling her that she was getting through to him, slowly but surely. "I don't want to throw away my life and career on you just to be left used up and broken." she added, hoping she had enough strength to deny herself and kill of the hope he had for them as a couple. "And I don't want to have to carry you - I don't have enough left in me to do that, or to keep positive while I know you're out there playing happy families with her."_ _

__Michael shook his head, no. Disagreeing with everything she was saying. "It wouldn't be like that. Not at all. And there ain't no happy in my family! There's nothin' between me and Amanda, and there never really was. The only reason I married her was 'cause I had to. She was havin' my kid and I wanted to do the right thing. I didn't even wanna get back with her last year but I did 'cause I'd already sacrificed so much for her and the kids."_ _

__"Oh, how fucking noble of you." Cassidy scolded sarcastically, turning her head away._ _

__He held back an aggressive response, sparing her because he knew she was hurting inside from the complications of his life. "The only reason I stayed with her was 'cause I was too afraid to end it, to be by myself. I never felt for her, the way I feel about you. Not even close."_ _

__She inhaled deeply, searching for strength. "What you're feeling isn't real, it's a product-"_ _

__"Of therapy?" he growled angry that she was dodging every attempt to get through to her heart. "That's total fuckin' bullshit!"_ _

__She shook her head, resolutely. "No, it isn't."_ _

__"For fuck sake," he blew out. "You're really startin' to piss me off."_ _

__"Exactly." she nodded enthusiastically. "If I'm pissing you off now, imagine what it'd be like for us as anything more than doctor and patient. I'm not what you think you want, and I'm certainly not what you think you need."_ _

__"You know what I think-" the volume of his voice started to raise and she turned away again, angering him further. "-I think the rub right here is that you're fuckin' afraid of being with me, of lettin' yourself be who you are! You keep pushin' me away because you're afraid!"_ _

__"YEH! I am afraid!" she yelled, turning back to face him. Her Liberty City accent surfacing with her anger, making her drop her drop the ends of her words. "Afraid of losin' everythin' fuckin' thing I worked for. D'you have the first idea what it's like to actually work for somethin'?" she barked raw and ferociously. "To spend every hour of the fuckin' day either workin' to make money to study, or studyin' to learn how to eventually make money?" she glared at him but he looked away in shame. "No you don't, 'cause you jumped so many steps in the process of achievin' somethin' you don't know what hard work is. I'm not ruinin' my fuckin' career and becomin' another deluded mob wife. I don't wanna be like Amanda and I definitely don't want to be left sittin' here while you're out there with her, or some other woman who's dumb enough to fall for your charm. I can't blow everythin' I've got on this. On _you!_ " _ _

__"It wouldn't be like that!" he promised emptily, he couldn't guarantee it and they both knew it. "I'm not askin' you to ruin what you've worked for, it doesn't have to be like that."_ _

__She laughed sardonically, at his naivety. "-'Course it does!"_ _

__"So you're that afraid of things _maybe_ goin' wrong or being difficult that you won't even try?"_ _

__She hesitated in replying, taking a few deep breaths as she boxed up her natural way of speaking and employed the parlance she felt more controlled and confident in using. "You have no idea about the shit I've been through. What I've had to do to get here, or how valuable this life is to me."_ _

__"Then tell me!" he encouraged. "All I want is to know you and to chase what I feel between us."_ _

__"Until you get bored, or you start to feel guilty and go back to your family." she rejected._ _

__"For fuck sake! You're so fuckin' stubborn."_ _

__"Likewise!" she snapped. "Stubborn, impulsive, aggressive, bitter, twisted, needy, fucked in the head." she poked angrily at her temple. "I'm all that shit." she said viciously. "This isn't a fuckin' movie, Michael. All our flaws and problems don't just disappear the minute we kiss and the credits roll. If you start this shit, it'll destroy both of us. Me probably more than you."_ _

__"Well, I ain't got nothin' to lose and I don't think you have either."_ _

__"Are you kiddin' me?" she yelled, her cadence slipping back into her native twang. "I could lose my job, my reputation, the house, my car - fuckin' _everythin'_ just for havin' this conversation with you right now and entertainin' this fuckin' ridiculous idea!"_ _

__Michael fixated too quickly to note the attack on his confession. "I got enough money to take care of-"_ _

__"STOP!" she cried, holding her hands up to him. "Stop right fuckin' there! If I wanted to be a kept woman I'd woulda kept my ass in Liberty City, wastin' my days getting fuckin' mani-pedi's and blowin' five grand on another new purse I don't need." she blurted out angrily, stopping for a beat to take a deep breath and compose herself. "I don't give a fuck about how much money you have, it doesn't mean shit to me. Money corrupts fuckin' everythin'." she admitted, sparking Michael's curiosity as much as his joy to hear that such a belief lay within her._ _

__"I didn't even want to ask you to pay me for treatment," she continued, her voice lower and more controlled. "-Because I knew you needed a friend not a paid shoulder to cry on. I don't want you throwing cash at me, Michael. I'd rather you were a Goddamn hobo than have you try to buy me..."_ _

__Something exploded in Michael's chest, and it felt incredible. "And that's why I want you in my life." he insisted excitedly, taking a step towards her, reaching out. "I need someone like you." he continued, moving closer, closing the gap. "Somebody who gives a shit about me and not what I can do for 'em!"_ _

__"What about what I need?" she begged._ _

__"I can be all that." he swore blindly._ _

__She shook her head, not wanting to listen to what he was promising, but her heart had already attached itself to his pledge. "You don't need these problems."_ _

__"I've already got most of 'em." he assured, giving her a faint, uncertain smile. Moving a little closer where she stood at the end of the kitchen counter. Moving in close enough so he could smell the scent of the shampoo she'd used on her damp hair. His arms burning to reach out and touch her and stop all the fighting._ _

__She nervously looked over his handsome face, her hands gripping the edge of the counter, feeling her resolve to resist him slipping away with every word he carelessly spoke out. She felt vulnerable and exposed, but she couldn't move away. Kept rooted to the spot by the largest part inside of her that craved his touch; hungered to be held by him and given another taste of the blissful oblivion that his warmth had bought to her._ _

__"I don't know how this'll work out, Cass," he continued softly, sensing she was weakening. "-But I know if I have to walk away from you, I'm gonna regret it for the rest of my miserable life and somethin' tells me you feel the same way."_ _

__"You don't get to take those kind of liberties with me." she warned him gently. "You always seem to need to have something to feel bad about yourself for, and I don't wanna be dragged in to being that _something_."_ _

__"You wouldn't be." he returned._ _

__She gave a huff of cold laughter. "You remember telling me that all you've ever done in life is chase things, only to wind up hating them?"_ _

__"Yeah, but, this ain't that." he insisted hopelessly, wishing for a better way to convince her._ _

__"Isn't it?" she asked, looking at him in the way she would over her glasses whenever she called him out on his bullshit during a therapy session._ _

__"NO!" he cried, throwing up his arms. "At least I don't think so."_ _

__Cassidy gave a single huff of hollow laughter, and in that instant their moment of promise snapped. "Yeah, but you don't know for sure." with that, she turned away from him again._ _

__"Shit!" he sighed quietly, his eyes dropping down to the floor, searching around for a way to get through to her. "Good or bad, I can't predict the future, Cass, and neither can you." he insisted, unsure of how they'd go to the point of talking so far ahead into the future. "The only thing I know is that I can't get your out of my head. I've tried and if I stop thinkin' about you for a minute I get that feelin' like I've forgotten my cellphone or some shit."_ _

__She gave another empty laugh, the bitterly negative voice in her head was only able to take insult from being compared to a cellphone, and couldn't see the true implication and meaning behind his words._ _

__"This is so ridiculous." she muttered, turning back to him. "Can't you understand that I don't wanna be the reason you hate yourself when you're lying next to your wife in bed." she told him firmly._ _

__It was Michael's turn to laugh humourlessly. "In bed? Right! That's funny!" he started pacing from side to side again. "I've spent so many nights on the couch lately I've forgotten what he feels like to sleep in my own fuckin' bed."_ _

__"Well coming here and pulling this shit with me isn't any way to get you back in it!"_ _

__"I don't wanna be back in it!" he yelled at her, balling his fists in an attempt to grab onto the patience he was rapidly losing. "I'm sick of puttin' band aids on bullet holes. I'm tired of feelin' like shit when I finish work at the studio and have to back home and face being alone and feelin' worthless again. I've quit tryin' to make things right-" she cut him off._ _

__"So what? You're looking for your next stepping stone? You're exit strategy, with me?"_ _

__"No!" he answered too quickly, and back peddled. "Well, yeah...I guess, _kinda_ bu-" she laughed sardonically and turned away from him again, shaking her head in disbelief and wrapping her arms around herself protectively. _ _

__"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" he sighed, feeling like he was losing her. He'd never been great at expressing himself properly, and it just seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into the quicksand around him. "Listen-" she cut him off._ _

__"No, Michael. _You listen._ " she bit, turning back to him and pointing a finger in his face. "I don't wanna be another one of your mistakes, whether it's for one night, or for the rest of my life. I can't. I can't be that person. I don't wanna be the fuckin' other woman." _ _

__"You wouldn't be. You're the _only_ woman-" _ _

__She cut him off again, shaking her head, maddened by his naivety. "Will you stop talking like you're in a fucking movie?"_ _

__"Whad'ya want me to say, Cass?!" he yelled, flinging his arms out. "I'm being honest with you here, I ain't never been this fuckin' honest with anyone, and I dunno what else I can tell you to convince you-" she cut him off again._ _

__"I don't want to be fucking _convinced_ of anything!" she yelled back, shaking her hands at him angrily as if she was mimicking throttling him to death. "You're idea of what a relationship is has become so fucking warped with deceit that you think it's about trying to make one another believe something all the time." _ _

__"That's not it." he denied hopelessly._ _

__"Really? Because it looks that way to me."_ _

__"Of course it would!" he snapped. "Because you're so fuckin' busy seeing all the negatives you can't see what's really going on here." she opened her mouth to retaliate but hesitated, showing a momentary weakness that she knew Michael would capitalize on. "You're so wrapped up in trying to be a good girl that you're denying yourself a shot at this."_ _

__"You don't get to talk like you know me." she dismissed instantly._ _

__"Why? 'Cause I don't got a file on you!"_ _

__"You ever think for one second that the reason I don't wanna go there with you is _because_ of the files I've got on you?" she threw back, wanting to hurt him in his softest spot. _ _

__Michael gave a bark of bitter laughter and darkened his mood. "Oh yeah! Here it is!" he cheered, gesturing at her. "Maybe that's where I got this all fuckin' wrong, maybe the only reason you understand me and I feel this way about you is because you got a fuckin' book on me to read and you've played me like a Goddamn piano."_ _

__"Fuck you!" she snapped, angered that he was questioning her authenticity again. "I _do_ understand you." she finally confessed. "And not because of what I've read...but understanding you is exactly why I don't wanna get involved with you like this." she implored. "If I understand, it means I'll justify and accept and tolerate and I already told you I don't wanna become like my mother, or Amanda." _ _

__"You wouldn't!" he barked back at her furiously. "Amanda has never understood, that's why we don't work."_ _

__She glared at him, trying her hardest not to see the conviction in his eyes. "I'm not a good horse to hitch your cart to, Michael." she warned sensing that her attempts to reject him were futile from both sides of the battlefield they were on. "You should go."_ _

__"I'm not done."_ _

__"Listen to me!" she growled. "This is not going to happen, so if you're pushing at this because you think-"_ _

__"I'm pushing at this 'cause if I don't, I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do with all this shit I feel for you."_ _

__"Cut your losses, and walk. I'm sure you've done jobs before where the take wasn't worth the risk? This?..." she gestured wildly between them. "This is that!"_ _

__Michael sighed heavily, rapidly losing the fire inside him that powered his need to make her understand how he felt. "So you're just gonna run away from this?"_ _

__Something about those words slashed at her moment of calmness. "Yeah! Because that's what I do, Michael. If you knew the first thing about me, you'd know that I always run and I don't look back."_ _

__Michael shook his head, not letting curiosity get the better of him. "If that were true, you wouldn't have let me back in here."_ _

__She looked at him for a moment, her eyes burning with a mixture of anger and vulnerability, before turning away and moving clear away from him and over to the kitchen sink. Finding some breathing space in the dim glow of the cabinet lighting, she realized how dry her throat felt and that her resolve to deny him -and herself- was crumbling to dust._ _

__She turned on the faucet and picked up a glass from the drainer. Quickly filling it with cold water and taking a gulp, as she felt Michael's eyes burn into her back. She closed her eyes tight and wished him away, knowing it'd be easier if one of them just disappeared from the other's life. Things were such a mess, she couldn't stand the idea of turning him away when he was baring his soul to her, but she knew to move forward with was a risk that would cost them both dearly._ _

__"Please go." she said softly. "I don't wanna hurt any more people."_ _

__Michael's expression pulled into a sad and curious frown. "You're not going to."_ _

__"You have kids, Michael." she reminded, staring at the chrome sink unit, knowing it would be easier to not see that hopeless look on his face. "A wife who thought you were trying to make a go of your marriage. You have people that matter to you-" he cut her off._ _

__"All I've got in my life are two kids that fuckin' hate my guts, a wife that cheats on me with any guy that comes within ten feet of her. A volatile psychopath, who's still itchin' for a chance to kill me. A kid that's young enough to be my son and has a better head on his shoulders than I do, and the seventy-nine year old guy that I work for. I got no one who gives a real shit about me, Cass and I thought that maybe you could. I thought we could be somethin' to each other." he took a few steps nearer to her, but she didn't turn around._ _

__Even without facing him she could feel all his sadness and desperate need for comfort absorbing all her fight to resist him, but still she held on to the hope that she was doing the right thing by pushing him away. "We can't do this." she denied._ _

__Michael's temper flared from the pit of his stomach. "Why the fuck not?"_ _

__"Jesus Christ!" Cassidy snapped, slamming the glass down on the counter besides the sink and spinning around to face him again. "Do I need to go over all this again?"_ _

__"Yeah! Ya do!"_ _

__"We've kissed once." she exclaimed. "And it's like you planned this whole thing and have gotten our whole lives mapped out together." Michael's eyes broke from hers shamefully, giving himself away subconsciously. "You did, didn't you?"_ _

__"Of course not!" he cried, swatting his hand out dramatically. "I just thought-" she cut him off._ _

__"You thought a lot of things, _obviously_ , but did you ever think about what I want? What's right for me? What I'm thinking? Do I even get a say in any of this?"_ _

__"It seemed pretty obvious to me what you were thinking when you were straddlin' my lap."_ _

__She narrowed her eyes at him, "Yeah! Because you showed up here in the middle of the night manipulated me into caring about you and wanting to comfort you and-"_ _

__"It was more than that, and you know it." he retaliated._ _

__It was her turn to look away, and she sighed heavily. She hated herself for it, but she wanted him more than ever before. She wanted to let go of all her fears and run into his arms. Chase after the fantasies she held within her own head, and see if things could really be as good as the feelings he evoked inside seemed to promise._ _

__"Look, Cass. I care about you, and I think that you care about me too and I wanna see what happens between us if we give this a shot."_ _

__She shook her head softly, images of his wife and children coming up in front of her vision of him like a dark mist to blind her to the positivity. Thoughts of the destruction to her career and reputation echoing round her head. "If you cared about me at all, beyond wanting to get in my pants, I don't think you'd doing this to me."_ _

__Michael scanned her face, hating the way she seemed so negative, locked down and shut off. Just as she did when she was in professional mode. "Is this your way of telling me you don't feel anything for me? he asked confidently, knowing she did, it was written all over her face._ _

__She almost glared at him, angry that he was testing her. "I feel _everything_ for you, Michael. And that's the fucking problem!" she confessed, knowing that since they'd met several weeks ago she'd gone through practically every emotion imaginable because of him._ _

__Her words were all he needed to hear, to give him the boost to seal the deal between them, but before he could speak she cut him down. "Whatever I feel for you doesn't matter because I can't do this with you. _I can't._ There's too much at stake." something in her eyes was so certain it scared him. "Please just leave me alone." _ _

__"Cass, I-" she cut him off, having revealed too much to him to guarantee her safe position on the sidelines of his life._ _

__"Go. Please." she begged, her voice starting to crack as her determination to resist him evaporated around her. So many reasons why pushing him away was wrong, and a million more screaming at her about how it was the right -and only- thing to do._ _

__The look of hurt on her face killed him inside. In that moment he realized what he was doing, how his own selfish desires were hurting her. How he was pushing her into doing something she clearly didn't want to do. Something that scared her._ _

__His inner voice warned that if he carried on pushing he'd just leave with another reason to hate himself, or worse - give her a reason to hate him. Just like everyone else._ _

__"I know you think what I'm sayin' is bullshit, and I guess I can't convince you otherwise, but just know I'm so sorry I fucked it all up. I'm sorry I made you have to become that person you're trying not to be. I know how that feels, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone." his head bowed remorsefully and he looked inside himself for the right words. "I just...I think we could maybe be happy together, if we gave ourselves a shot." he insisted. "I want you, Cass...and not for all the reasons you think, but..." he trailed off, unable to find a better way to explain himself more than he already had._ _

__"Just go, please." she said again. Desperate to be rid of him before the last thread of her resistance snapped like a rubber band and sent her hurtling towards him and into the unknown._ _

__Michael looked at her with a defiant expression but it wasn't enough to weaken her. She was doing her best to lock him out of her heart and mind. In the moonlight she looked vulnerable, almost fragile and what little he had left of a conscience bit at him. He was wrong for putting her on the spot; for taking advantage of her. The whole night had been just another example of what a terrible person he was, and how he'd steamroller his way over anyone to get what he wanted and yet he still couldn't pull away._ _

__"Listen-" she cut him off._ _

__"No! I'm done listening! Don't you get it?" she cried frantically. "There's nothing you can say that's going to change this."_ _

__With a heavy sigh, which signalled his defeat he looked her over once more and made a turn for the door. Walking slowly, dragging his heels in an attempt to stall for time but her eyes didn't touch him as he moved away from her and closer to the exit on her life._ _

__His stomach sank with disappointment as he move halfway to the door, his inner voice insisting that he say _'fuck it'_ and cut his losses. Stopping for a moment to look over his shoulder, seeing how she was staring blankly the point where the pale kitchen flooring met the light wood of the living area. Arms determinedly crossed over her chest but her eyes looking so forlorn. He could almost hear the noise the cogs in her head were making and he felt his eyes soften into sadness. _ _

__He'd never seen someone so strong and so fragile all at once. In that moment it was obvious that he'd damage her more than she already was. Hurting her carelessly by trying so hard to coerce her into a relationship which would be a minefield for them both. He was an idiot for thinking they'd be good for each other, when they'd have to do so much wrong just to be as one._ _

__With a swarm of uncomfortable emotions rising in his chest, he turned his head away and took the last steps towards the door. Reaching out for handle, ready to walk away from her for a final time, but suddenly her voice called out._ _

__"Wait." she said in almost a whisper but it was loud enough for him to hear. Instantly he turned around and looked at her, a million questions playing out on his face._ _

__She was still staring at the floor still, desperately searching for control over herself. Feeling him walking away, leaving on her instruction, had sent a shockwave through her A shockwave that reminded her of how he was offering everything she wanted. One that turned her mind back to think back of the week she'd been through without him. Wondering and worrying about him, wishing he was with her and that she could take back all the things she'd said to him in the street a week ago._ _

__She knew she needed to be sensible, to stick by her words of rejection and not let herself fall into his tangled web of a life, but she could hear nothing but her heart and how it screamed only one thing._ _

__She couldn't bear to have him walk away, not now she knew exactly how he felt. Not when she knew how alone he was, and how desperate he'd become for someone to care about him properly. How he believed they understood one another, how he wanted to know about who she was. How he seemed so willing to accept it all, despite her every attempt to put him off._ _

__Knowing his insecurities and how deeply he felt for her over ruled all logic in her mind. The thought of never seeing him made her forget all the moral and professional damage she was doing by entertaining the idea of falling into him. The fear that she might miss out on all the things he was quietly promising her made her stomach churn, and it all crashed together inside her, setting a panic in motion that she couldn't stop or control. Causing her mouth to open and shout out the words that stopped one error before it could happen, while setting the stage for her to make what could be the biggest mistake of her life._ _

__Even though every part of her pushed her towards him, she still desperately searched for a way to stop herself barrelling into a world of problems and pain. Although it was all for naught; she couldn't shake the hunger for all he offered her. Something inside was breaking and all his words and promises were seeping in and diluting the last drops of her defence._ _

__"What?" he asked, his leg jiggling showing his impatience to know why she stopped him, but she didn't respond. She just kept staring at the floor like it had instructions printed on it for how to handle the situation they were in._ _

__"What'd you want from me, Cass?" he asked, walking a little way back towards her. Feeling exhausted from baring his soul to someone who seemingly didn't care. "I told you how I feel and I ain't gonna say it again. You don't wanna be with me, and I get it. I was kiddin' myself to think someone like you would want me. I'm fat old fuck, who-" she looked up and cut him off immediately._ _

__"Jesus Christ!" she sighed, finally defeated. "Stop with the self deprecation." she said with a weak laugh in her voice. "Of course I want you." she admitted. "I've never been more attracted to anyone." she told him honestly._ _

__"So then what?" he asked hope burning bright in his eyes and he strode back to join her in the kitchen. "If you don't want this, then tell me no and _mean it_ and I'll walk away. 'Cause I know I'm a difficult guy to be close to and I'm not a good person like you deserve, I don't wanna hurt you, but I need you in my life." he confessed. "And I'm fuckin' done talkin' about this, Cass. I dunno what else I can say. So it's go time - take it or leave it." _ _

__She hated to be put on the spot, but she needed one last push. She looked back at him, her eyes scanning his handsome face, his steely blue eyes big and needy with a hunger behind them that was so intense and deep. Was she actually considering forgiving him, for all the shit he'd said and done earlier that night? Was she actually going to risk everything on a man like him? Someone who spelled disaster in every imaginable way?_ _

__She hated herself for it but she couldn't stop herself. All the fight she had in her to resist him was spent. All the stubbornness that wanted the decision and mistake to be hers -not his- had washed away in the tsunami that hit her when he did as she asked and tried to leave once and for all._ _

__She felt herself surrendering to him and the fantasies she'd had of her own about their potential. The thought of truly losing him was too overwhelming, she had to pull him back and take a chance on him while she still could._ _

__She searched his handsome face, desperate for a scrap of reasoning to push him away for a final time, but all she could see looking back at her was everything she wanted and all she felt she needed to fill the void that she'd carried in her heart for so long. The mere thought of cutting him out of her life for good made her feel sick._ _

__In that moment it didn't matter that he was married, or a father to kids not much younger than she was. She didn't care that he was a criminal, and a murderer, and the embodiment of all the chaos she'd tried to run away from. She couldn't find it in her to worry about if they would work for a night, or for a hundred years into the future, the only thing she knew for certain was that she needed him as much as he needed her._ _

__"Fuck you!" she said on a sigh, and without another hesitation she took two steps forward, closing the gap between, grabbing a fist full of his t-shirt and pulling herself up to him and crushing his mouth with hers and silencing the last feeble voice of resistance within her._ _

__Devoured by desire, Michael instantly responded. His shoulders relaxed and his arms snaked around her slender body, pulling her into him as tight and firm as he dared, not wanting to hurt her, but not willing to let her wriggle free._ _

__He kissed her back deeply, her full soft lips drove him wild, and he felt all his pain melting away, but for some reason such relief caused him to start laughing into the kiss._ _

__She pulled back a little and scowled at him, fearing she might be part of some big joke. "What?"_ _

__His eyes were so bright with relief and hope, lips smirking with lust and excitement, silently telling her how happy he was that she'd succumb to his will and her own. "This was my decision." she told him firmly, her eyes drifting in thought for a beat. "I guess I made my mind up about you a long time ago."_ _

__Michael smirked, feeling the warmest of sensations within him, lifting him up to heights he hadn't yet reached in his forty-eight years on the planet. " _Really?_ And what d'you decide?" he asked, with knowingly raised eyebrows._ _

__"That you're an asshole." she told him sassily, softening into a smile._ _

__He broke into a smile, chuckling with relief. "I know, but baby, I think we're pretty well matched." he grinned charmingly, sending a wave of warmth flushing through her._ _

__She rolled her eyes, she should have guessed he'd feed her some cheesy line. For a second she considered that he'd been imagining them both as the stars of the romantic subplot in some corny black and white movie that he'd seen a dozen times. She wanted to tut at him but the excitement she felt for what could now be wouldn't allow any kind of negativity to get through. Instead she felt the last of the pressures on her shoulders lift and set her free to do what she'd longed for._ _

__Smiling at her lovingly, he reaching his hand up to cup her face, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone, he looked deeply into her eyes. Telling her without any words just how much he wanted her and how grateful he was for the chance she was giving him._ _

__Just as she feared she would, her body instinctively melted into him. There was no resisting the pull she felt towards him, and she could no longer fight just how much she wanted him. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and she wasn't going to let him go again. Full blow affair or one-night-stand, consequences be damned she wanted all he offered with everything she was._ _

__However, one final momentary whisper of uncertainty flickered across her eyes and her expression changed. "Don't make me regret this." she asked, her big blue eyes begging him not to hurt her the way all her worries and sensibilities had warned he might._ _

__Stretching his hand out a little to softly rub his thumb over her full bottom lip, Michael smiled warmly. "Never!" he assured, full of confidence. Sealing his promise to her with a deep passionate kiss._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks flying objects* I know, I know, I'm the worst for cockblocking you all, _again_ haha! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter, as these two idiots totally got away from me with their bickering haha! As always, I'd love to know what you thought and if you're ready to find out if they finally seal the deal. Thanks for reading and sticking with me. You guys are the best!
> 
> Oh, and PS - if you wanna find out just who the hell Jaqueline was, you can find out in my other fic [Profit and Loss](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6530971)  
> 


	26. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I'm really sorry to have been so slack on the updates lately. I've lost my way a little bit with writing due to some pretty major stress in real life right now, but I'm hoping this chapter will have been worth the wait as the day has finally come for these two idiots to do the nasty. 
> 
> So, as you might guess - this chapter is about eighty percent not-from-concentrate smut haha! I try to make sure the smut I write adds to the characterization and has some kind of "purpose", so if you're not that comfortable with smut I hope that the other elements will come through for you. 
> 
> It's also been a long ass time since I wrote/shared proper smut, so be gentle with me haha! As always, a huge thanks to everyone for their support on the last chapter, seeing you share your thoughts and feelings about the story is amazing. It really does inspire and sustain me, I'm just sorry that life is screwing with my ability to update quicker. Hope you all enjoy this new installment! :o)

  
_Are you gonna be my love?_  
_Are you, gonna be mine?_  
_I feel it falling from the skies above,_  
_Are you, gonna be mine?_  
_My wave, my shark, my demon in the dark._  
_The blue tide pulling me under,_  
_Or are you my soul, my heart, pull everything apart?  
_Are you gonna, are you gonna be my love?__

_**\--[Shark by Oh Wonder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1RE8jRXhy0)** _  


In the dim light of her kitchen, Cassidy's felt herself drifting away. Even the edge of the counter jabbing painfully into her lower back, as Michael's body pushed against hers, couldn't keep her grounded to reality. The touch of his lips and hands mixed with the heat of his body was intoxicating. 

In her mind there were no thoughts of the consequences of what they were doing; no consideration for what damage such an impulsive choice could do. No trace of all the worries and fears she'd dwelled on in the weeks since they'd first met. All that seemed to matter in that moment was their mouths and hands exploring one another. Uniting in the way they'd both hungered for since the moment he'd set foot in her life. 

His body pressed against hers and hers against his. His presence and passion hypnotized her; breaking down all the walls around her heart with his warmth and in turn rebuilding them up around them both instead. Effortlessly shutting out all sense of her morality and the risks that came hand-in-hand with their union. 

Just as they had before, Michael's soft and slightly uncertain kisses worked her mouth open and allowed him to reunite their tongues once more. Pulled into a haze of desire, she slid her arms around his neck, as his hands stroked firmly over the silk fabric of her robe that covered her back. Their bodies melding together and allowing their body heat to mingle just as it has on the couch. Heightening the arousal they both felt for one another, which in turn washed away every last spec of apprehension they held onto. 

The tingling that her touch filled him with had somehow cured the stinging pain from the graze on his arm. All hints of pain in his body had melted away as he kissed her hungrily, purring softly against the feel of her hands caressing the back of his head and neck. A magical touch that worked better than booze or drugs ever had. 

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so high, or been so turned on; in fact he'd forgotten it was possible to feel so desperate and needy for someone's touch. Someone - a beautiful, younger woman. Whose real name he actually knew this time. Someone who wasn't waiting for him to hand over money in one way or another after he'd had his fill. 

"Bedroom?" he asked quickly, his lips leaving hers for barely a second before he was back kissing her. His hands caressing her all over as she dropped an arm from his neck and grabbed a fist full of his t-shirt. Using her hips to push him back a little so she could move away from the counter, turning a little to guide him steadily over to the staircase while his hands worked to expose her body to him. 

Instinct alone drove her towards the staircase. Her head was swimming with desire and her stomach was full of eagerness to move things along, before her sense of right and wrong could burst through the door and ruin their fun. She couldn't remember a time when she wanted something more than she wanted him. 

She felt his hands fumbling desperately at the knot in her robe, his concentration too focused on her mouth to properly direct his hands. She smiled into the kiss, amused by his clumsy attempts for a moment, before reaching in between them and helping him with the task at hand. 

As soon as the knot was loosen, he pushed the robe off her shoulders, sending it down to floor as she took a backwards step onto the stairs. Trying hard not to break their kiss as she struggled between losing herself in his touch on her bare skin and focusing enough to safely lead him backwards up the staircase to her room, without stumbling. 

Michael was so lost in the feel of her mouth, her warmth, the smell of her skin, he felt like a teenager again. Or perhaps the eager and hopeful twenty-something he'd once been. Her touch made him feel better than even the affects of heist induced adrenaline or lines of cocaine ever had. 

His jeans were uncomfortable and his desperation to take her was rising rapidly but something inside held him back, letting her take the lead. He wanted to savour every moment. It had been so long since he'd been with someone who actually wanted him. Someone who was truly turned on by him. Not just entertaining him because he rolled down his window and requested it, or thrown a healthy pay-check's worth of dollar bills at her. She was there because she wanted him, and for no other reason, and that felt better than any climax could. 

Somehow between kisses, stumbles that elicited giggles, and pauses to kiss against the stability of the stairwell wall, Cassidy managed to lead him upstairs onto the landing. Blindly taking two free steps backwards in the direction of her bedroom, before he was overcome with need, and pinned her back against the corridor wall. 

His large hand gently grasped her throat, his forefinger and thumb framing her chin as he held her in place, kissing her as deeply as he could and as firm as he dared. Dominating her in his desperation to have her, as his tongue rubbed hungrily against hers, encouraging her body pushed up against his. Showing him that her need matched his own. 

He wanted her right there, against the wall beneath the silvery moonlight from the domed glass roof above them, but he still he couldn't bring himself to rush it. A long comatose part of himself was wakening, and insisting that he make the most of the chance he had. As the only remaining worry in his head warned that by the morning light she could have come to her senses about letting a fool like him into her bed. 

He wanted to make every second, and every touch count. He wanted to show her that he could be a good lover, and break the selfish habits he'd fallen into. He wanted to take his time, kiss every part of her, and make her cum as many times as he dared. Hoping that somehow it would show her that the risk she'd taken by letting him in was worth it. The chance to finally show her physically what she'd come to mean to him was a chance he couldn't squander. 

Somewhere in his chest, he found his voice again. Freely speaking his mind between kisses. "If you knew...how many times... I'd..." he stopped short, a flicker of worry for being too crude crossing his mind. 

Cassidy chuckled breathily as he kissed her neck. "I hope the reality...lives up to...the fantasy..." she gasped out, as his hands roamed wildly and his lips sent electricity through her. 

He pulled his head up from her neck and looked into her eyes. "Already has." he said adamantly, showing her a smirk playing on his lips and in his eyes for a moment, before claiming her mouth once more.

Desire tingled at the back of his neck, spurring him on to exploring her further. Sending his free hand running down her side to find its way between her thighs, cupping her need. Finding the moist heat between her legs, sent a thrill through him. Causing his hardness to strain eagerly against the fly of his jeans. 

He couldn't remember the last time he made someone burn for him like that, but he as she began to grind against the heel of his hand he knew he had to feel her properly. As much of it as she'd allow him to take. 

"Which door?" he asked against her mouth, while she tugged at the dark t-shirt he wore. 

"That one." she rushed, nodding to her left and the only door along the wall. Without hesitation he began to shuffle her along the wall, lips fighting not to break as they went. He fumbled behind her for the handle as they kissed. Popping the door and taking his turn in walking backwards, leading her inside. Opening his eyes for a moment just to locate the bed in her crisp white room, with pops of colour. Lit by contrasting light of the icy moonlight from the large patio windows and the soft warm light of two bedside lamps. 

With another few steps, the back of his legs bumped against the mattress as her hands clawed at his scalp. Relieved they were finally in the right place, he cradled her back with his arm, and gently pushed into her. Using his body to turn her around and guide her down onto the bed. Setting her across the mattress, his body coming over to cover hers as their lips hungrily kissed and her hand went to his belt. 

She was more than ready for him; desperate to experience what she'd been lying in that very bed imaging for weeks. All the thoughts and fantasies she'd had failed to prepare her for what she'd really feel at his touch. How good he'd smell up close, and how warm and strong he'd hold against her. How every nerve in her body was tingling with a level of excitement that she hadn't experienced before. 

Together they quickly freed the blooded black t-shirt from his body, pulling it over his head and tossing it away somewhere into the dark corners of her bedroom, quickly followed by her lacy bra. His mouth moving back in for her neck, his hands pawing at her breasts as her own finally found the bare skin of his torso and chest. 

She lost herself in his kisses and caressing his back and arms, careful to avoid the bandage she'd fastened in place, but enjoying finally being able to finally feel the firm muscles that his clothing promised. Enjoying the way this body tensed with excitement under even the most delicate of touches. As the feel of his stubble scraping over the tender skin of her neck made her moan weakly, tingles taking her over. Making her hands grab and squeeze at him insistently. 

He could have spent the remained of the night kissing every inch of her body, the way she smelled made him lose himself, but somehow he managed to slowly work his way back from her. Rising up a little and sliding back just enough to set about pulling her panties off and down her legs. Looking at her impassioned face as he quickly freed her and tossed the panties somewhere behind himself. Desperate not to miss a moment of feeling her against him, he quickly reunited their bodies. Nestling himself between her legs, his broad, semi-clothed frame covering her slender naked body. 

The friction of his jeans against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs was driving her crazy, making her nails claw at his bare back. Her legs drawing back, bringing up her feet to push insistently at the waist of his jeans, but his wondering hands were distracting, as he slipped one between them. Guiding it down towards her growing wetness. 

She moaned into his mouth, feeling his large hand slip between her thighs to find her heat again. His finger tips brushed over the smooth curve of her womanhood, sending electricity through her. The way she shivered against him encouraged him to advance his touch, and he parted the moist flesh with his middle finger, brushing over her clit and causing her to whimper into his mouth against a groan from his own. Her body arching, pushing into his encouragingly. 

Michael's skin burned with arousal; she was so slick and silky. He found himself delighting in her bodies reaction to him - _just him_ \- and the fact he was turning her on. He'd missed that more than he'd realized. During years of unfulfilling and awkward sex with a wife who couldn't stand him, or hookers who prepared themselves artificially. Feeling her body's natural reaction to the arousal he caused within her him turned him on intensely, and reminded him that he wasn't as useless as he'd been made to feel for so long. 

The slickness that slid through his fingers was all caused by her attraction to him; validating that she wanted him. Proving that he could still be something special to someone; and knowing such a thing made him feel alive in ways he'd forgotten possible. 

Hungry to feel more of her, he gently slid a finger down a little further to find her small, tight entrance as his thumb stretched out to attached itself to the tiny peak of nerves at her center. She cried out, breaking the kiss as he entered her, the friction of his fingers pairing perfectly with the pressure of his thumb. 

Michael almost smirked, but she grabbed the back of his head and pulled his mouth back to hers. Kissing him with a renewed passion as he began to rub painfully pleasurable circles against her clit, his finger working her in time making her body writhe under him. Each of her moans getting louder, breaking their kisses over and over, as her hips moved in time to meet his hand. Wordlessly begging him to increase the pressure he applied, while his cock strained painfully against his jeans. 

The feel of her body and the sounds she made drove him crazy. He'd become so used to practiced moans and insincerity that he'd forgotten how much pleasure could come from the sounds of satisfying another. She was responding to him in such a way because he was doing something right. Something to make her feel good, without the promise of cash or new possessions. He felt his chest, and his ego, swelling. Fed by the outward signs of her pleasure and enjoyment of his actions. 

As much as she loved what he was doing, and as badly as she wanted to cum right there, she held an overwhelming need to feel him inside her. Every inch of her body ached to feel their bodies connect in the way she'd fantasized about. She broke the kiss sharply and set her hands fumbling at his belt again. "Please." she gasped, unable to find the words for what she needed, but he knew. 

There was no time for taking things slowly, and exploring one another fully. Teasing and long drawn out sessions of pleasure would have to wait, it was obvious that she needed him and he needed her.

Feeling overinflated with desire and pride; feeling a little worried that he might burst if he heard another word from her, he pulled back. Unsteadily standing on wobbly legs and quickly undoing his boots and toeing them off, along with his socks as he scrambled to escape his jeans. 

His eyes transfixed on her as she shifted her naked body on the bed. Moving up into a better position, crawling into place, almost cat-like, to where she could rest her head on the pillows. Her big blue eyes drowsy with lust as she watched him, sucking on her bottom lip as she instinctively began to touch herself. 

He stopped with his jeans halfway off his hips, frozen besides the bed as he watched her with a slack jaw and lust ridden eyes. He'd imagined seeing such a thing so many times, picturing what she'd look like as she touched herself. Yet nothing had prepared him for seeing her fingers lazily working her wetness as she caressed one of her full breasts, looking at him desperately. Silently begging him to help out. 

He felt his stiff cock twitch in his boxers, demanding to be released, but his hungry eyes wanted to stand there all night. His skin alit with tingles as he watched her tease herself while looking into his eyes. His palm itched to touch himself but he was afraid to, unsure how his control would hold up against the lack of practice and unprecedented levels of arousal. 

A flutter of worry skittered thought his stomach, bringing a dark cloud of fear over his head. One that warned he might not be able to satisfy in the way he'd imagined. That years of selfishness and awkward encounters had caused the impressive sexual skills he'd once had as a younger man to rust over. The demon on his shoulder whispered into his ear that a fat old fuck like him wouldn't have the ability to ever properly satisfy a beautiful young woman like her. 

The heat in his body began to turn cold as his anxieties and insecurities seeped into his bloodstream and began to dilute the fiery passion he felt. Years of not needing to perform nor impress had made him lazy, and he couldn't be sure if he was up to the task of actually bringing his fantasies into the light of reality. 

His stomach knotted with the ideal that he was about to ruin the one thing he wanted to be perfect. That he was going to let her down and prove just how useless he really was. That he'd put the final nail in the coffin of hope, and show her just how foolish she'd been to give herself to him. 

As if she could see straight into his mind; like all his insecurities were strewn across the bed besides her, she sat up and crawled across the mattress to him. Kneeling in front of him, she stroked her hand up his chest and over his broad shoulder, moving behind his head as she bought her mouth to his again. Kissing him deeply, and encouragingly for a moment before easing back and looking into his eyes. 

Silently assuring him that she'd be patient if he needed her to be, while encouraging him with the lust in her eyes. She kissed him again, firm yet still soft and wet. Peeling her lips from his just enough to look into his eyes and whisper, "I want you." 

"Fuck!" he gasped; as a thunderous spark of electricity shot through him. Wiping out all hesitations and doubts that had surfaced. Desire took over, shutting down all his unfounded worries and sending his hands fumbling to his pockets. Desperately tugging out his wallet before shaking off his jeans the rest of the way. 

With a smile, Cassidy slinked her way back to her chosen position on the bed. Reading herself for him as she watched him slide off his boxers, allowing her see him for the first time. Her eyebrows raised, and she bit onto her bottom lip. 

Even in the dimmed light of her bedroom he could see she looked impressed, and it inflated his ego ever further. Encouraging him to quickly pull out a condom from his wallet, clutching it in his hand before throwing the wallet onto her nightstand and quickly climbing onto the bed to be with her again. 

With a sassy smirk on her face at the sight of what he'd kept hidden in his pants, she raised her body a little way and met him with a kiss, which he deepened. Letting his tongue play against hers as his body hovered over hers. His hands running all over her body, as his erection throbbed with need between them. Brushing against her lower abdomen teasingly, making his arousal border on discomfort. 

He broke the kiss and looked down at her, she looked exactly as he pictured she would. Thick dark hair fanned out behind her, ocean blue eyes soft with desire but still burning with lust. 

"You ever think about this? 'Bout me?" he asked carelessly, his voice low and gruff. Unaware until he spoke, of just how much he needed to know if his fantasy was as real as it had been vivid in his head. 

She giggled softly, almost shy, but not shy enough to deny him. "Every night." she confessed, with her hands caressing his arms and shoulders. He made a strained noise in his throat which told her she'd just confirmed something he'd been longing to hear. "What about you?" she asked, her hand slowly stroking down his chest, heading down towards what she wanted to touch. 

"Only about three times a day..." he teased and she laughed knowingly as her hand searched for his cock, pressed between their naked bodies. "Fuck!" he gasped and his body jerked at her touch, sending a jolt of pleasure through him. He snatched her hand away, afraid she'd blow it before he got a chance to be inside her. 

Pinning her hand back against the spare pillow, he moved his mouth to hers again, kissing her hungrily. His free hand fumbling for where he'd dropped the condom on the bed besides her, before quickly setting about putting it on. Trying his best not to break the kiss, hissing into her mouth as he blindly slid the tight material down his shaft. 

Melting into his touch and hazy with excitement, Cassidy readied her hips as he drew back a little. Her whole body tingled with excitement. Her skin burning as he looked down at her, passion in his eyes. Searching for a hint of regret or discomfort on her face as he began to guide himself into her. 

She cried out as he entered, not in pain but in pleasure. As if feeling him inside her was as fantastic for her as it was for him. Just the sight of the satisfaction her face was enough to send him over the edge, and the feel of her hot walls drawing him in took every ounce of his self control to resist his release. 

All his muscles strained, trying to balance the pleasure he felt with his ability to control himself. Resisting against the perfect tightness he found inside her. As she delighted in the pleasurable stretch she felt, feeling better and better the deeper he slid. 

"Shit!" she whimpered out, adjusting her hips to adapt to his size, as his mouth came for hers again. Wanting to silence her, fearing another word would finish him. 

Every nerve ending in her body was tingling in the best way, as his hands caressed any and all bare skin he could find. Their mouths working desperately to stay connected between gasps and moans as his hips began to move instinctively. Sliding himself in and out of her agonizingly slowly, building the friction they both needed to find the release they hungered for with one another. 

He kissed her deeply, as she clawed at his back, passion building more and more with each gentle thrust. His hand found her breast and pawed at the soft flesh, enjoying the feel of a real breast in his grasp. Thumbing her nipple and loving the way she cried into his mouth in response. 

The feel of his strong hands touching her as he moved in and out, in the perfect steady rhythm. Working away at the deep need inside her, and his size causing such a pleasurable stretch within. Bringing forward the ever increasing sensation that promised the release she'd longed to experience with him. 

The sounds she was making and the feel of her hot tightness around him was becoming too much, and he knew he needed to slow things down. His hips were desperate to thrust into her with every ounce of energy he had in him, but he wasn't ready to let things end too soon. Afraid of never feeling the way he did with her again, once it was over between them. 

He wanted it to last as long as possible, feeling not an hint of pain in his weary body or an ounce of weight in his burdened mind, with her body joined to his. He broke their kissing softly and looked down at her, her eyes hazy and full lips flushed deep pink, just as he'd seem them once before that night. 

"C'mere!" he groaned breathily, before slipping his arms under her and effortlessly rolling onto his back, and pulling her along with him. The shift of his cock inside her made her cry out, the incredibly feeling of him filling her to the max and touching long forgotten places inside her was almost too much. She tensed, trying to resist the orgasm that threatened to erupt inside her. Pressing her hands down on his chest as she fought with herself for a moment. 

He watched her attentively; the way she reacted and the expressions on her face excited him greatly and made a smile that was almost smug peel across his lips. He'd imagined the feel of her on top of him, how she'd look staring down at him with passion in her eyes and need written all over her face. Yet the reality looked better than he could have ever imagined. The warm light from the beside lamps casting her face above him against the sliver moonlit backdrop. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful." he gasped out, causing a faint smile to surface against the struggle on her face. 

Cassidy wanted to let herself go so badly, to cum around him as quickly as she could, but she denied herself. The build up was so perfect and intense, she didn't want it to ever end, but her instinct took over. With her palms planted firmly on his chest to steady herself, she began to move against him. His strong hands grasping her hips as she began to ride him. Alternating short movements up and down with a deep grinding motion that drove him insane. Causing him to tense and groan in such pleasurable agony, as their need for release built to an unbearable level. 

Through pleasured groans, Michael smirked. He loved watching the expressions on her face, it felt like those alone were enough to make him lose it, but somehow he held back. He wanted to give her his best, to make her feel as good as just looking at her made him feel. He was wildly out of practice, but things were coming so naturally, reminding him of how there could be such pleasure in resisting his own release in favour of giving all he could to her. Building his confidence in believing he could be a good lover after so many wasted years. 

He wanted to stay in that moment with her forever, but his desire to feel her climax was becoming ravenous. With one hand gripping her hip firmly and he stretched out the other to wiggle his thumb into her wetness, seeking out her clit again. 

She let out a frustrated moan as he began to rub at her in time with her movements on his cock. Kneading at his chest and shoulders as her eyes fluttered between open and closed, fighting the pleasure that was coming to a head inside her. 

The combined sensations took only moments to take effect, her breathing began to become shallow and her rhythm turned erratic, trying to grind and pump on him at the same time as she pushed herself into his hand. She began to hiccup on pleasured cries and before she knew what was happening, she was cumming. Harder than she could remember doing before. 

He reached out to her, his hand cupping the her cheek. "Look at me!" he demanded, but he didn't need to demand it. She wanted to see his face as orgasm began to peak and drag her under. Starring down into his eyes, showing him he was the only thought in her head as her body shuddered and bucked against his, her hot walls convulsing against his cock making him gasp and strain painfully against the threat of his own release. 

"Oh fuck, Michael!" she strained out as the wave of orgasm broke through her. Filling her with an intense shot of blissful tingling warmth that whipped away all her strength. Her eyes lost focus and her head dropped forward, her arms giving out and bringing her body down against his as she climaxed around him. 

The spamming of her walls, filled him with the need to thrust, and before the first wave had washed through her completely, he'd wrapped his arms around her torso and skilfully switched positions. Flipping her over on her back once more. 

The unique sensation of his cock shifting inside her climaxing walls made her cry out again, but the minute she was safe against the mattress, his hips began to move. Unable to stop himself thrusting into her desperately; fired up by the sensations that were attacking his body. 

Kissing sloppily as they carelessly caressed each other. He used one arm to support himself through his powerful, deep thrusts as his free hand teased her breast in time with his motions. Her hands stroked eagerly up and down his back, finding his ass and squeezing it encouragingly as he fucked her. 

The feel of her short sharp nails digging into him drove him wild, the sounds of her strained mews and whimpers were alone enough to finish him but the sweetness of her heat was too good to give up on. He needed the release desperately, but the feeling of her slick wetness, hugging his cock so perfectly was unbearably sweet torture. 

"Mich...Mic...fuck me." she begged him breathlessly, and it was all the encouragement he needed. He reached down and cupped the back of her knee, lifting it up and placing it over his shoulder allowing him to go deeper than he dared. They moaned out together at the change in sensation as she shifted deeper inside her. A pleasure which filled him with the need to thrust harder and faster than he dared before. 

His body was alight with desire and pleasure, and he couldn't stop himself, as he began to pound into her. Trying desperately to keep kissing her as he worked her body. She grabbed his forearms, as if to keep him in place as he thrust. "Faster!" she begged, surprised to feel another orgasm threatening from deep within her. He obliged, moving his hips quicker in perfect grinding thrusts that rapidly built the incredible sensation inside her. 

"Fuck, Cass!" he groaned, lost in how good her body felt and how good her cries sounded. He knew he was going to lose it at any second, and he pulled back a little to check her face. She looked strained, like she was concentrating but she opened her eyes to look at him and feeling the connection he longed for put him into overdrive. 

He thrust harder and faster, triggering her next orgasm from deep within her. "Oh...shit....Michael." her voice caught in her throat as he hit the perfect spot, sending another intense orgasm racing out from within her, chasing after the first. 

As powerful waves of pleasure flushed through her, the firm walls of her pussy squeezed around his cock. Massaging him in perfect velvet waves. The sensation and the sound of her crying out his name again, was as if she'd pressed a button somewhere within him, and he felt himself irrupt inside her. Blissful rushes of pleasure flushing through his body in time with hers. Weeks of tension and need dissolving in the waves of tingling satisfaction, as the orgasm shuddered through him. His hips bucking erratically, fucking her through her climax and taking his for all it was worth. 

A silence fell on the bedroom, their breaths held firmly in a bid to prolong the pleasure. As they were both swept away on waves of tingling ecstasy. Drowsy eyes locked onto one another, as the bliss they'd both craved consumed them. 

The moment the intense wave released its grip on his body, Michael collapsed onto of her, spent and sated. She moaned weakly under him, her body still under the control of the pleasure he'd given her. Tingling wildly with the most satisfying of sensations. 

He moved his arms in to embrace her as best he could in their position, kissing her shoulder tenderly as he felt her stroke the back of his neck, both enjoying the last measures of pleasure together before reality bled back in. 

Their ragged breaths settled and a few moments passed before either of them could move, both wishing they could stay lost in that moment together, but they couldn't. There were things to be said, more things that were waiting to be done. 

He raised his head wearily and looked at her through glassy eyes. "Goddamnit!" he gasped. "That was fuckin'...incr...incredible!" he purred. "You're fuckin' perfect." he told her planting his lips back on hers again as he tried to convince himself to pull out of her delectable warmth. 

She was too drunk on pleasure to care how real his words were. The delicious sensation that had settled in her body was preventing her from thinking about anything but the moment and how good it felt to finally give in to what she'd longed for over the weeks. 

They kissed deeply once more as he reluctantly but carefully pulled out of her, before his body gave out again and he collapsed on his back besides her. "Fuck me!" he gasped, his chest was burning from the exertion, and everything below his ribs was tingling so wildly that a thought something might be wrong with his spine. 

He knew he'd broken the seal on what he'd kept repressed for so long; his desires to receive genuine pleasure and to give it in return. Every part of him felt healed, in the reminder of how good sex could be with a connection that went deeper than just the physical. 

He'd always got pleasure from the act of course, he was never disappointed by getting off but something felt different with her. It was deeper, more intense. He guessed it was maybe because he'd not done it for so long, or maybe it was because he'd finally found his fit. Perhaps things felt so good because there was no guilt or regret seeping into him in place of the pleasure, no familiar dark thoughts. Just lingering warmth and satisfaction that formed the strangest sense of comfort and wholeness. 

He rolled his head to the side and saw she was still lying on her back, her body weak and completely relaxed but her head turned to look at him with clearly curious eyes which twinkled with traces of lingering pleasure, but he quickly noticed she seemed to be trembling. 

"You cold?" he asked her, concerned. 

"No...I just...shit!" she gasped, unable to shake the incredible feeling deep inside her. She felt as if should he touch her once more, she'd climax all over again. She couldn't recall a time when she'd felt so intensely, or had an orgasm linger for as long as the final one did. "Jesus Christ!" she panted, trying to settle herself as a soft but proud smile settled on his lips. His eyes feasting on her naked body laid out next to him, just begging to be taken once more.

"Didn't I read somewhere..." she forced out, closing her eyes for a minute enjoying the feeling inside her too much to form a whole sentence all at once. "....that you were sexually...insecure...." 

Michael chuckled, almost nervously. "That's what they say." 

"Fuck!" she gasped. "You got...n-nothing to be insecure about....not when you just made...me cum like that." 

He couldn't help but smirk, wondering what he'd done to garner such a reaction. He'd been praised before -plenty in his youth- but he'd known the praise of recent years had been little more than lip service. Yet the way she was struggling to settle herself told him that whatever she was feeling from his interaction was genuine, and something worthy of admiration. 

He lay there proud, for a beat or two. Looking up at the ceiling at the faint pattern of the ocean that was reflected up there by the moon. It sounded like the storm had passed, and now all that could be heard was the rain that remained dripping from the guttering and sills outside, and her soft breathing next to him. 

He looked over at her again, admiring the way her skin glistened in the low blend of light tones, reflected off the mirror closet doors at the far end of the room. A fine layer of perspiration covered her, as her breathing slowly settled back into a normal pattern. Just looking at her naked body was making the tingling inside him renew. Filling his head with ideas and desires to take her any way physically possible. 

Images of having her all over the bedroom, downstairs, on the balcony, on the beach, in the car, or against it. On the floor, in a chair, against the wall, he didn't care. She'd unleashed something within him and he was certain there was no way he'd be able to control it again. 

As he lay there eager to recover enough to take her again, the instincts he'd developed over years of lying with women that didn't matter kicked in. Without him realizing what his actions would imply, he sat up weakly. Swinging his legs over the bed and dealing with the situation that remained from their union. 

His unexpected departure let a cold air rush in besides Cassidy and she flinched. Suddenly her stomach was overcome with an unsettled feeling, that chased the remaining warmth within her away. Turning her pleasured shivers into ones of worry and rejection. 

His lack of communication troubled her, and in her head a distant alarm bell began to ring out. Was he leaving? Had he just got what he wanted and now he'd go back to his wife? Had he used her? Tricked her into thinking he wanted more than just to feel how tightly she'd wrap around him? 

As her mind rapidly clouded with darkness, her skin turned cold with fear and regret. She looked at his broad back, the scattering of small moles that lay over his spine. Wondering if the way his shoulders rose and fell meant that he was trying to catch his breath, or maybe talking himself into walking away from her. Maybe he was trying to convince himself to stay? 

All the emotion of the night caught up to her all at once in a dark flood and she felt nausea rising in her stomach. Worries swarming in, bringing with them the shame of what she'd let herself do. How she'd abandoned all her morals for a quick thrill. How she'd let primal desires make her become what she didn't want to ever be. _The other woman._

Her own insecurities flared, quickly making her consider that she'd been tricked her into falling for his charms and empty promises. Likely the same as dozens of women before her. Guilt filled her as she considered how foolish she'd been to have believed in the million promises and convincing arguments he'd sang her downstairs. It was clear in that moment that it was all just a sham to get into her pants. A setup to fuck her and get it out of his system so he could return to playing the dutiful husband at home. 

Chilled to the bone, she felt her eyes stinging, as a feeling emptiness settled inside her. She held onto her breath and tried as best she could not to let any emotion be heard through her breathing. Quickly she turned over and grabbed for the sheets. Nestling her head into the pillow and pulling the covers up over her shoulders and closing her eyes tightly, wishing she hadn't let herself come undone. 

Wishing him and all her anxieties away so she didn't have to face up to what she'd just let herself do. She couldn't stand to think of how foolish she'd allowed herself be. How he was going to walk away and leave her there, empty and used up. 

Trying desperately hard not to acknowledge his lingering presence, she shut off her ears, but couldn't ignore the way his weight shifted on the edge of the bed. She bit her lip nervously; demanding that she didn't let herself say a word or let him know how she was feeling. Trying hard to take her mind away from the moment, scared how she might react to sensing him leave. 

She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable sound of his belt jangling as he dressed to break through the blocks in her ears. Trying to second guess how he'd stand up and quietly put his clothes on before walking out of her life for good. How the door would sound as it clicked closed on her and their disaster. 

She squeezed her eyes shut; wishing she could turn herself deaf to all the promises he'd made, echoing around her head. She should have known better than to trust him and the words he spoke to convince her to cave in. Words that promised they'd be a long term thing, that going against all her morals and living in the guilt of an affair would be worth the struggle. Yet it seemed clear all he wanted was a fling. A one night stand to satisfy himself and his boyish urges to fuck his attractive therapist. 

Frozen on the mattress with her eyes tight and her ears muted, she felt protected from him. Like she'd shut down her senses to protect them from any possible attack his presence could launch. Yet in the silence and dark of her closed eyes, the smell of him on her seemed to get stronger and stronger. Seemingly building around her, making her breathe through her mouth as she felt herself getting pulled down into a pit of regret. 

Then suddenly something touched her shoulder. 

His fingertips softly brushed over the bare strip of skin, just above the hem of the blanket, and she almost flinched. Head snapping round to look over her shoulder at him, with wide almost startled eyes. Shocked to see him laying so close behind her. Propped up on one shoulder, looking at her with needy, puppy-like eyes. A hunger for validation and affection glinting in his steel blue irises. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated for a moment. Uncertain and nervous that her turning away was a declaration of regret or a call to end their night together. He'd seen the backs of so many women, ones who were eager for him to just put his money on their dresser and leave. 

"Is this okay?" he asked, putting his hand fully over her upper arm, stroking her softly. The uncertainty in his eyes seemed to tell her he was afraid of rejection in his struggle to reach a deeper intimacy with her. 

The look in his eyes and warmth of his body at her back swept up all panic inside her and locked it away tightly. Filling her with a sense of comfort and completeness that soothed every irrational worry in her head. "Yeah." she nodded softly. The relief of knowing he was staying, that he wanted to be close to her, told her that all her worries were unfounded. Filling her the compulsion to turn back over to face him; she wanted to be close to him. To be comforted by his presence and all the tenderness his eyes promised. 

His warmth melted away all the icicles of fear in her blood, as his arm came to wrap around her and bring her close into him as he rolled onto his back and bought her with him. Kissing the top of her head as they settled back onto the bed together. 

She could almost taste the relief in her mouth, and couldn't fight the need to snuggle in close to him. Nuzzling against his chest softly and gratefully as he caressed her back with one hand and linked his fingers through hers with the other. Holding her hand over his heart as he let the mixed sensations in his body simmer down. 

Cassidy closed her eyes and smiled, grateful that her automatic anxieties had been so wrong. Thinking that maybe, _perhaps_ , everything he'd said to her downstairs was true after all. The possibility of him sticking around and building something meaningful filled her with hope and a promise that said making the choice to risk everything on him was really worthwhile. 

They lay together silently for a few minutes. Just listing to one another breathe, enjoying the comfort and searching for the right words to say, and questioning if words were needed at all. They both seemed content to just be close and warm against each other's bodies, but after a few minutes more, Cassidy sat up a little. Leaning on his chest for height and looking at him with a smile. 

He could tell she was feeling a little awkward about what to say next, as was he. It had been years since he'd had to worry about pillow talk. Yet he couldn't recall a time when he'd felt more comfortable and content than being nestled in bed with her. 

They both knew they wanted to do more with one another, but now the moment had passed it felt like the good kind of awkward. Laying there together, completely naked under a thin sheet but exposed in every other way. Having finally given into their desires for one another and explored each other's bodies in the most intimate of ways. There were no guidelines or etiquette for how things were supposed to go, and all they had to rely on was instinct, and Cassidy's instinct in any level of awkwardness was to make a joke. 

"So," she smiled. "You come here often?" 

Michael laughed deeply; loving the way she had the perfect line to break the tension of the moment. "No, but I'd like to." 

She giggled lightly. "That's good. 'Cause I think I'm gonna need this at least once a day." 

"I was gonna to start the biddin' at four times." 

She laughed, at the way his eyes sparkled and his chest puffed up under her. "You think your stamina is up to snuff?" 

He went to answer, but had a disappointing thought. "I'm gonna need to go pay a visit to the twenty-four-seven, then I'll show you all about my stamina." he said almost brashly in his renewed self confidence, but she frowned, confused by what he meant. " _We need more condoms._ " 

"Oh." she realizes, and with that she reached over him and opened the draw in her nightstand. Her body wriggling against his arousingly as she fished around inside for something. The fidgeting of her naked, slender body against him sent tingles straight to his center. 

He was oddly disappointed when she stopped wriggling and slipped back into place at his side. Showing him she held a small unopened box of condoms in her hand, which she dropped onto his chest and smiled confidently. 

"That enough to last 'til morin'?" she teased. 

He took the pack and looked it over for a moment, there were six condoms inside. "Hummm...Maybe!" he considered, before blindly dropping it on the nightstand beside him and suddenly pouncing on her. 

Fresh, youthful exuberance encouraging him to flip her on her back again. Shifting his body over to cover her once more, as he set about kissing and nuzzling at her neck. Indulging the playful and affectionate side of himself that he so rarely allowed a chance to escape the rusty cage he kept it trapped in. 

She giggled against the tickle of his stubble on her neck, her skin prickling with pleasure and excitement for what was to come. He took her lips again, kissing her deep as their tongues playing lazily. Enjoying the afterglow together and recharging ready for the next go around. 

After a few minutes, Michael rolled onto his back once again and took her with him, bringing her to his side where she rested her head on his chest. His hand alternating between stroking her shoulder and playing with a lock of her hair, as she dreamily drew swirling patterns through the light dusting of hairs on his chest. 

He never wanted to leave that moment; it somehow felt even better than the act of sex. He'd missed the intimacy of sticking around after sex. The fun and comfort that could be found in the afterglow. With the women who used false names, as soon as the lust had faded in his veins he wanted to leave. With his wife, on the rare occasion that fumbled their way through some alcohol fuelled, awkward sex, she'd leave before there was any chance for affection to blossom between them. Knowing Cassidy actually wanted to be near him after the dust had settled. That she actually enjoyed his company and maybe wanted more, well. He found himself feeling as if he could have happily died there in her bed with her in his arms, but a nagging thought crept slyly into his head, and wouldn't be quickly chased out by her loving warmth or the hope in his heart. 

"I'm sorry, Cass."

"For what?" she asked, looking up at him with a frown. Puzzled by the odd shift in mood; her anxieties piqued at the suggestion he held some regret for their current situation. 

"For the shit I said earlier." he reminded, instantly calming her growing fears. "Bustin' your wall too. I didn't mean it. I just get really cruel when I'm hurt...or scared." 

She gave him a soft, understanding smile. "Me too. I said some mean shit to you, and I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. Everythin' you said was true." he sighed. "That's why I hate myself even more for lettin' you seem me get like that. 'Cause you were just being honest." 

She nodded softly, forgiveness warming her chest. Unsure how to show she was sorry for hurting him, but not sorry for speaking words she felt he needed to hear. "How's your hand?"

He looked down the hand which was stroking her arm, noticing the graze speckled across his knuckles. "Hurtin' a bit." 

"Serves you right." she gave back, with a sassy smirk on her lips but not a hint of malice in her eyes. "What about your arm?" 

He'd almost forgotten the gash she'd cared for on his bicep, the painkillers she'd given him had helped but not quite as much as the feel of her body had. "It's alright." 

"Good." she said tenderly, genuinely relieved that all the blood had been superficial. The sight of him hurt had cut her deeper than she'd imagined it ever would. 

He looked into her eyes intensely, and felt an ache in his stomach that was different than before. It was an ache that pushed him towards trying his best to make her happy. A hunger to build her trust in him and maybe in turn give their relationship a fighting chance to blossom into something stronger than he'd known before. 

"I'll never let you see me like that again." he promised. 

Cassidy shook her head. "It's okay." she assured. "I don't want you to hide anything from me, especially not a part of yourself. I just...." she hesitated, not wanting to darken the mood so much. "If you ever raised a hand to me-" he cut her off. 

"I've never hit a woman." he told her firmly, his voice solid in its honesty. "And I would never hit you. Please don't think that of me." he insisted, his voice straining, sounding as if it could break. "I ain't like my dad." 

"I know." she smiled softly, stroking the back of his bruised and grazed hand. 

Her eyes were effortlessly comforting. "Besides which way," he continued, relieved that she'd accepted his promise. "Somethin' about you says you'd kick my ass from here to the Alamo Sea if I even thought about it."

"Damn right I would." she said with a smile, poking him in the chest playfully. 

He chuckled at her for a moment but the smile faded from his eyes. "I know I fucked up, but I care about you a helluva lot and...." he hesitated, afraid to say too much too soon. "Can we get passed it?" 

"There's nothing to get past." she insisted warmly. "I wouldn't be lying here if I couldn't forgive you." 

They'd both said mean things and they both knew it, but she couldn't hold it against him and the look in his eyes said he couldn't either. They badly wanted to move on, to chase the happiness they had tasted in each other. The fight had been needed, the ability to shout and scream at each other clearer the air. To help them see the path they had to take to work things out. Their fight wasn't born out of cruelty or desire to hurt each other, it was simply a clumsy solution to a problem and they both knew it. 

She moved up a little bringing her mouth to his, closing her eyes and kissing him softly. Sealing her promise to him. His hand quickly came up to cup her face, as if he was afraid she'd move away, and he deepened the kiss. Losing all his thoughts with just the touch of her lips and the softness of her tongue against his. 

He couldn't remember a time before that kissing had given him so much pleasure. He'd been starved of intimacy for so long, superficial connections for transactional sex had made kissing seem like an empty gesture, but with her it felt like their lips expressed love as clearer than their words did.

When she softened back into his arms, laying her head on his chest again, he felt himself give a satisfied sigh. It seemed like all the bullshit he'd been through, especially in the past months, had been worth it. All the chaos had bought him to her, and given him the moments of pleasure that seemed to help soothe the ever present ache in his chest. Yet one question lingered on his mind; a curiously that blocked the moment from being completely perfect. 

"So? You gonna tell me your story now?" he asked, a little nervously to ask. 

She looked up from her makeshift pillow of his chest, and raised an eyebrow at him. "You qualify as a therapist since I last saw you?" trying to remain light hearted. 

Michael chuckled. "No, but you know...I thought..."

Her mood darkened, revealing the side of her that he'd seen downstairs earlier that night. Her body stiffened and she pulled back a little way further from him. "What? That if you put your dick in me I'd pour my heart out to you?" 

"Cass? Don't be like that." he begged as she sat up completely and pulled away from him, the mood ruined. 

She quickly gathered up the duvet at the foot of the bed and bought it around herself, as if he'd just rejected her in some terrible way. He frowned, unsure about how things had suddenly been flipped on their head. He wanted them to share secrets, to bond in a way beyond the physical. To trust one another; to confirm that everything he'd felt meant something deeper for their relationship. 

"Jesus Christ, you're moodier than I am." 

"I told you." she warned, her glare was hard, but his soft eyes showed that he liked that side of her. He liked the fact that she was multifaceted and complicated, just as he was. In that moment he knew it had potential to make things challenging, maybe in the wrong way, but something told him he wasn't going to get bored of her. 

"Listen...I..." he hesitated, uncertain of how to explain himself. "I don't know if this is right or wrong, but I always got the impression that you needed someone to talk to, just as much as I do." he offered.

Cassidy glanced away again, ashamed and annoyed with herself for being so transparent during their therapy sessions. As the eagerness she saw in him unnerved her worse than anything. For some unknown, and perhaps foolish, reason she already trusted him, but she didn't want to speak of her past with anyone. For her own sanity if nothing more. 

"Well, every shrink has a shrink." 

"Do you?" Michael asked with his eyebrows raised. 

"Not right now." she shook her head, looking down at her hands gathered in her lap. "I thought I was doing okay." 

"Oh." 

Such a small word seemed to pack a punch, enough to make Cassidy look up and find Michael's face again in the dim light. He looked dejected, like a child who'd just broken his favourite toy. In that instant she knew he felt as if she was holding him responsible for some kind of downfall, and the sight of him made something inside her ache. Building a pressure that pushed the words she didn't dare speak further towards her lips. 

She tried to show him with her eyes alone that she didn't mean to be cold. She didn't want to hurt him by shutting him out, but from past experience she knew that tales of who she'd once been had sent people running for the hills. 

However, a little voice in her head reminded her that he wasn't like the others. He'd been through similar, if not the same, shit that she had. 

"You don't need to know." she told him, softly. Attempting to convince herself not to speak her truth, and soothe him at the same time.

"But I _want_ to know." he insisted. "You know so much about me, who I am, my past, my present. I feel like I know you, just not the details. It's drivin' me crazy." 

She sighed heavily, feeling the emotions she'd successfully blocked out start to walk back in, like uninvited guests filling a room. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, she tightened the duvet around herself protectively. As he followed suit, pulling up the sheet up to cover himself better and free his legs, as if he was readying himself to catch her if she tried to run.

She looked at him again, and searched inside herself for the fight to resist him - but it was gone. She softly shook her head, annoyed that she'd allowed herself to fall into such a situation. "You sure know how to ruin a moment." 

"I didn't mean to." he defended gently. "I just ...I wanna to know about you, is that so bad?"

"Yeah, when you're probably not gonna like what you hear." 

"Cass? _Really?_ " he asked, sitting up a little against the headboard and looking right at her. "With all the shit I've done in my life, you think I'm gonna be shocked, or judge you?" 

"It's not about shocking you, and I don't give a shit if you wanna judge me." she told him flatly. She was used to the rejection that came with honesty; people in her recent past hadn't liked to discover that the studious, law abiding professional act only had shallow roots. "I just...." she looked out into the darkness at the corners of the room. As if searching for a way to handle the situation he'd put her in. 

"You don't wanna show any weakness? That about right?"

She turned her head back to glare at him. "I told you before about not trying to psychoanalysing me."

"And I told _you_ before, it was too late for that." he said with a faint smile on his lips but brighter in his eyes. She scowled at him half-heartedly, showing him how close she was to revealing all. "There's nothing you could tell me that would turn me off you." 

"That's what I'm afraid of." she confessed. Worried that if she said something that bought him closer, she'd never be able to save herself if she needed to let him go. 

At the back of her mind the knowledge that he wasn't really hers to get close to sat heavily. An instinct inside still needed to protect the softer sides of herself, afraid of the fact he wasn't free to love her, and how that in turn meant she would need to be economical with how much trust she put in him. 

Yet the look on his face was encouraging, and said he wasn't going to give up on her. He needed to know who she was, and she did owe him some answers. The truth was, deep inside she wanted to talk. She wanted to tell him what he needed to know, if only so he'd realise that she did understand his struggles as well as he sensed she did. 

"Jesus, fuck!" she groaned, defeated by his pleading eyes. "You're not gonna let up on this are you?" 

"Nope." he smiled, slightly smugly. "Not unless you distract me with hot nasty sexy every half hour for the rest of my life...." 

His humour broke through the darkness inside her and she chuckled at him, shaking her head in submission and gratitude for lightening the conversation as best he could. 

No one in the world knew her story, at least not in full, and he was probably the worst person possible to trust with it, but something about the look in her eyes said if she let him in the constant weight on her shoulders would ease. Like sharing her secrets would somehow cut away the infection of guilt, and so that a little healing could finally begin. 

"Alright, I'll tell you. But if you ever use it against me in a fight or someth-" he cut her off. 

He knew she was about to trust him with her deepest darkest secrets and although they'd said some cruel things to each other he would never betray her confidence in him like that. He'd had so many things thrown back in his face during arguments with his wife, and best friend he vowed in that moment to never do the same in his relationship with Cassidy. He wanted better for her than that. With her, he wanted to become the good guy he always tried to believe he was. 

"I won't. You can trust me." 

From across the bed, she looked into his eyes, deep and intense. Searching him -and herself- for a hint of doubt and a reason to shut the conversation down, but she could find none. Giving a resolute but submissive sigh, she simply said, "I hope so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you have it. They finally gave in and had the sex haha! Rest assured though, the drama is only just beginning. 
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and that it was worth waiting for. I would love to know your thoughts on this update and what may be to come. Hearing from you guys means so much to me, and your love and support feeds this hungry writer like you don't even know haha! Thanks for reading! xoxox


	27. Mattress Confessional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Happy New Year! 
> 
> I'm so terribly sorry to have left you all hanging for an update for so long. Back in November my life got completely flipped upside down after someone close to me had a nasty accident. Things seemed to go from bad to worse after than and so I've had no time to write or do much of anything I enjoy for weeks now, but slowly life is returning to (relatively) normal now and so I've finally been able to make a start on my to-do list so I can finally bring you this new chapter. I gotta admit, I'm not one-hundred percent happy with it, but I can't keep you guys waiting any longer, so I've got my fingers crossed that you'll dig it anyway. 
> 
> I hope you can all forgive me, and that you're all still out there. Huge thank you to everyone who left me a review on the last chapter, your words never fail to make me smile and if I could hug to each and every one of you three hundred and one people who left me a kudos I would. It was a wonderful start to 2017 to see this fic break a huge milestone of so much love and support. I am still brimming with ideas for this fic and I'm hoping life will be kinder now and that I'll be allowed more writing time because I'm so desperate to share where all this is going with you guys. 
> 
> So anyways, enough yabbing. This chapter is pretty long and heavy, as it's finally time for Cassidy to spill her guts. I really hope this chapter gives her more depth and explains why she'd acted the way she has at times. I'm hoping that once you know about her past that you'll still like her too haha! 
> 
> Oh and I should probably say that this chapter references a few minor/mentioned-but-not-seen characters from GTA III and IV too. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :o)

  
_"So if I stand in front of a speeding car,_  
_Would you tell me who you are, what you like?_  
_What's on your mind, if I'd get it right?_  
_How I love that no one knows._  
_And these secrets all that we've got so far,_  
_The demons in the dark, lie again._  
_Play pretends like it never ends,_  
_This way no one has to know..."_  
**\--[Speeding Car by Walking on Cars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w5h4yJ-BpL4)**  


  
"What if I told you that Nardovino isn't my real last name?" Cassidy asked out into the dark silence of her bedroom.

She felt too nervous to look directly at Michael, who was now sitting up with his back against the headboard, a sheet across his lap barely covering his modesty. Watching her intensely as she settled herself to sit cross legged in the middle of the bed. Naked body wrapped up in the duvet in just the right way to let her begin absentmindedly picking at one of the corner, showing her nervousness. 

She looked more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her, or cared to again and something ached in a part of his chest that hadn't felt anything in years. He could see a lot of pain was bubbling to her surface and it called to a tender part of himself that he'd badly neglected over the years. 

"Then I'd say, welcome to the fake last name club. I'm the chairman of the board." his tone was almost jovial, hoping to relax her, and to his relief she glanced up at him with a faint smile on her lips. A silent thank you to him for trying to lighten the heavy mood that had settled around them. "Then...I'd ask why you had to assume a new name and if your first name really Cassidy?" The lack of information about her on the internet was starting to make sense to him now. 

"Yeah, it is." she assured, looking him in the eye. "But most people used to call me Sid, not Cass." Michael rolled that knowledge around in his head for a moment, finding it strange how the blurred image of her years before he'd met her started to become a little cleared. 

"So where'd Nardovino come from?" 

"It was my maternal grandmother's last name...." Cassidy's voice trailed off, as she paused for a beat. Her eyes losing focus as she recalled her distant past, as if she was trying to push the truth out from where she'd locked it away so deep down inside her. "I never knew her or anything, but from what my mom told me about her, I knew she was someone that I wanted to be like on the other side of all the shit I did." 

Michael felt something twinge deep in his chest; it was as if he could see all the ghosts rushing into the blue of her eyes. Desperate to escape the prison she'd kept them locked in. He wasn't usually one for listening, or asking people personal questions but every part of him was brimming with curiosity about her. He'd held in so many questions since the first time they'd met, wondering constantly about what she seemed to be running from, and how something inside him said she knew more about his lifestyle than her professional persona let on. 

"Is that why you changed your name? To shake your family....friends?" his mind flashed up an image of Trevor and that fateful day in North Yankton that changed everything for them both. How he'd had to sacrifice everything to protect his family and give them all the life he felt they deserved. 

"Kind of." she said, searching for a right place to start unravelling everything before him. 

She'd avoided sharing the finer details of her past for such a long time, that all her memories of who she once had been seemed more like a movie she'd watched once, years ago. Scenes came back in vague flickered visions. Words and conversations playing in her head - muffled, like music in another room. Drops of continually shifting emotions bleeding into her bloodstream intoxicatingly, moving distant memories further into the light of the present. 

To her relief Michael didn't push for her to answer quickly. She guessed that he'd learned something during his therapy sessions, and was doing his best not to push. Giving her the time she needed to unearth the truths he wanted to hear, yet his patience didn't make finding a place to start any easier. 

After a few moments of silence, she spoke out. Revealing where the problems in her past were rooted. "Does the name Harvey Noto mean anything to you? 

Michael thought for a moment, it rang a very faint bell but he wasn't sure why. He'd had his head buried so deep for ten years, he barely kept track of anything outside of his own bubble. He had avoided reading newspapers and keeping up with current affairs, knowing it just depressed him more, especially if he turned a page too far into the sports section. 

"Not really..." he shook his head softly. 

"Well...he's the Don of the Messina crime family in Liberty City." she told emotionlessly. "He's also my father." 

"Oooh shit." Michael muttered; things were slowly beginning to make more and more sense. "I bet he didn't take too kindly to you leavin' home for the other side of the country, huh?" he asked curiously. Having known his fair share of Mobsters in his time, and how tightly they controlled their families - of both blood shared and blood spilled. 

"You have no idea." she said in an empty chuckle. The expression on her face was unreadable, but a million emotions were playing in her eyes. 

"Somethin' bad happen between you two?" he pushed, hoping to coax her out of herself. 

She gave a breathy laugh that held no amusement. "I honestly dunno where to start at..." Emotion was already thickly coating her throat, letting her Liberty City accent begin to seep out behind the practiced pronunciation she tried to stick to. As if all the dust from the memories she was stirring up in her head weakened the facade she'd locked in over every part of herself. 

Michael felt for her, he knew better than anyone what it was like to be put on the spot in such a way. So many times in the sessions he'd had with her and Friedlander had left him scrambling for the right place to begin unloading his baggage, so he offered her a starting point. 

"Which borough d'you grow up in?" 

"I spent most of my time in Dukes. Can't ya hear it in my accent?" she said putting on a heavy regional twang for comedic effect. 

Michael chuckled at her, he liked that she could find a little humour in a dark moment. Although he knew himself that particular talent was purely a survival mechanism. "Kinda. It comes out strong when you're salty."

"Salty?" one of her eyebrows shot up quizzically. 

He chuckled at her again, feeling a swell of warmth rush though him. "Yeah, and you're _really_ hot when you're pissed." he teased. 

Cassidy felt her cheeks heat up, the feeling of amusement warming the chill that had settled in her stomach. A buzz that reminded her just how much she liked him, despite all the trouble he was bringing into her world. 

"You want me to tell you all this or you gonna keep flirtin' with me?" 

Michael smirked at her, his steel blue eyes glinting playfully for a beat. A rush of animalistic urges tempting him to create a distraction, but he dodged them. His desire to know as much about her as she knew about him was too strong to defer. "A'right, I'll shut up." 

She smiled at him sweetly, grateful to him for trying to life the mood but it hadn't been raised high enough to prevent a tidal wave of thoughts rushing back in to swallow her up. She'd already said too much, things she'd tried to forget where crowding into her mouth, desperate to be spilled out into the world again. 

Preparing herself, she adjusted her place on the bed, near his legs. Making sure the duvet was secured around her as she settled back into neutral where she could find the best place to being letting him see into her past. 

There was something inside her that didn't want to say a word. Knowing that the truth had been too much for some people in her life to accept, but Michael wasn't like the people she'd been around before - the ones she'd tried so hard to be like. He was from the same background, sinned the same sins. If there was anyone on the planet who'd understand the things she'd done - it would be him. 

"I was-" she stopped and corrected herself. " _I am_ the eldest of four girls." she told, admitting for the first time in years that she was connected to other human beings out there somewhere. 

Michael lingered on that thought of a moment, imagining Cassidy as a 'big sister'. Assuming that was perhaps where her knack for helping people with their problems came from. 

"Growing up I worshipped my dad," she continued. "...but he was always distant. He didn't give a shit about his daughters..."

"Lemme guess." Michael put in, knowing the way things were and had been since time in memoriam, particularly with men like her father. "He wanted a son?" 

"You got it." Cassidy nodded with a blank expression. "An heir to take over all he'd created, his kingdom." her tone almost seemed like she was mocking the concept, but Michael could sense she held an anger inside. 

"My youngest sister's birth was real traumatic on my mom, so she couldn't have any more kids after her, and because having a son was the be-all and end-all to him, he went out and knocked up a few of his side pieces..."

"Did it work?" 

Cassidy shook her head. "Not that I know of, but I've probably got about eight sisters out there that I've never met." she joked, but again there was no humour in her voice. 

Michael related to her words deeper than he dared to reveal himself. With a full blood sister out there somewhere, who he hadn't seen in years, and a father who wandered for months on end, he'd occasionally found himself wondering how many other kids his father had helped created while he was missing. 

"I think my mom always knew what was going on, but she buried her head. If she didn't acknowledge it, then to her it wasn't really happening." Michael nodded understandingly, he'd followed the same formula for a large part of his life. "She was a good Catholic, and didn't believe in divorce, and I guess because she couldn't escape she grew to live for the luxury _the life_ afforded and that was enough for her to justify staying and tolerating all his shit." Her words turned Michael's mind to his own mother, briefly considering how both women's stories and temperaments seemed to loosely mirror one another. "She put up with so much shit from him," Cassidy added before hesitating for a moment, her eyes losing focus before closing them softly. 

Memories of all the drama she'd grown up around came rushing into her head. Raging arguments echoing through their house in the middle of the night, silenced abruptly by the sound of her father's hand cracking across her mother's face. "...so fuckin' much." she muttered to herself, clearly pained by recalling the darkness in her early home life. 

In that moment she was once again a little girl, sitting at the top of the staircase, watching her parents shadows play on the hallway floor as they fought in the living room. Shaking with fear at the sound of so much aggression and bitterness. Feeling helpless and afraid as she heard her mother sobbing. Running to her bedroom to hide under the covers before she was seen by her father, trying to avoid being hit herself. Quietly crying herself to sleep night after night; wishing for things to be better as her innocence slowly began to evolve into a consuming anger. 

The sadness that she'd kept at bay for so long, tightened its grip on her with each moment the memory linger, but a burst of strength forced her eyes to snap open, freeing herself from the pull of a past she hadn't yet come to terms with. 

She took a deep breath, and refocused her mind. Sitting up straighter with the determination not to crack up over things that had happened so many years ago. Things she could do nothing about anymore. 

"In fairness to him, he worked really hard to build The Family up from nothing." Cassidy continued, having spent a lot of time trying to find some way of justifying her father's actions. "He really turned shit around and made it into to one of the most powerful crime families in LC." Michael nodded, he'd had his fair share of run-ins with the mob over the years. 

"My mom was a lot younger than him, I think she had some romantic ideal of being a mob wife and he could be really charming when he wanted to be. So she stuck by him through everything, and I could never understand why. I thought it must have been a religious thing, but as I got older I realized she just didn't have the strength to leave him." her tone was sorrowful. "So I guess she grew to lose herself in designer clothes and fucking spa days like it was compensation for all the bullshit. The older I got the more I realized how she kept lying to herself to the point that she believed she was happy, and I think she got to a point where she would have put up with anything just to keep that lifestyle because it was all she had, all the material things were like a reward for suffering, a reminder that the shit was worth it, or something...I don't know." she dismissed, almost bitterly. "I've tried to figure her out for years but....I've never got too far." 

"Yeah, I know the feeling." Michael nodded, and Cassidy looked up at him. She recalled the conversation they'd had about his parents in her office, weeks earlier. In his face she could see that he understood where she was coming from, perhaps better than anyone else could have. 

"He took all his shit out on her, and us too. Shit loads of emotional and physical abuse, especially if you dared question him in anyway, he'd explode." Cassidy told, revealing that she'd related to Michael's story all along. 

Her words resonated deeply inside him, as images of his own childhood ran through his field of vision. Memories of the man he'd tried hard not to become, but had so often found himself walking dangerously close to the thin line that separated him from his father. 

"He only ever acted like we mattered when other people were around to judge him." Cassidy continued, feeling her jaw loosening and the words flowing out easier now she'd started. "The rest of the time he treated us like shit, so I guess, I kinda grew up feeling inferior, like I had to be _subservient_." 

Michael nodded softly, understanding well enough what a poor home life made children feel. How witnessing darkness at a young age often encouraged fear to steadily turn anger, which in turn propelled so many down the wrong paths in life. 

"Most of my earliest memories are being surrounded by women who put up and shut up," Cassidy contined. "...'cause they were either too afraid of getting beat down by their old man, or worried he'd cut them off and they'd have to live without the luxuries they liked." she revealed, her eyes focused on a spot on the duvet rather than Michael's face. 

"Even when I was really young, I knew I didn't want to be like that. I especially didn't want to be like my mom - spending my whole life sitting at home worrying if he was out getting killed or off fucking some new broad. Getting smacked in the mouth whenever she spoke out of turn." there was a barely contained anger in her voice, a contempt for her father and the lifestyle her mother had been lead into. "I hated seeing her be like that, I hated that he didn't respect her for all she put up with and all she did for him. She loved the money, _sure_ but...you could see it in her eyes that it didn't make up for the shit she suffered because of the life. For how he broke her over and over again every time she heard a new rumour or caught a beating." 

Michael nodded softly, understanding exactly where she was coming from, having witnessed his own mother's abuse at the hands of his father. How she'd hung on to the hope of making something of their marriage despite years spend without him. Waiting for him to return home and pick up where they left off. Playing second fiddle to whatever new scam he was running, or whatever new job took him out of town for months on end. Wasting her whole life faithfully waiting for him, and only getting a shot at the life she wanted with her husband a few years before she died. 

His thoughts shifted to considered his marriage to Amanda for a moment and how he'd so often placate her with finery back in the midwest. It was his way of making up for being missing for weeks on end as he worked scores out of town. He loved how the faces of his family lit up when he returned baring gifts, but those well-intentioned actions had lead to his wife seeing spending money as a form of therapy. Filling the void he knew she felt in moving to Los Santos and in their strained relationship with expensive handbags and shoes. Then when those things didn't do enough, she found therapy with other men instead. 

He knew he was to blame for the state his family was in, how he kept making things worse and hearing of Cassidy's past and her contempt for the lifestyle her mother lead filled him with uncomfortable feelings that he dared not give a name to. 

Cassidy took the moment of silence to think; trying to find a way to explain what drove her in the years before things went so wrong. "I think there was always something in me that wanted things to be different. I wanted to buck the trend that everyone seemed to follow and make the money myself. So maybe I could give my mom all the shit she worshipped so she wouldn't need to put up with so much from my dad." 

Once again, her words hit home for Michael and his eyes softened into sadness for her, and his younger self and all his failings. The first thing he'd ever stolen was a decorate glass vase to give his mother for her birthday when her father failed to return. He hadn't realized that was a defining moment in his life, but deep inside him there was a long buried soreness that lingered on being unable to give his mother a better life. How she'd chosen favour his father over anything he could offer her as his son. 

"And at the same time, I guess...I also wanted to prove to my dad that we didn't need him." Cassidy's voice lifted Michael out of the thoughts that threatened to crush him. "That I could be as strong and capable as this _'allusive'_ son he always wanted and punished my mom for not giving him." 

Focusing back on her story and leaving thoughts of his own behind, Michael opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, feeling long buried emotions blocking his throat. He swallowed hard, pushing them away. Refusing to acknowledge things he'd spent so long ignoring. 

"That sounds... _problematic_." 

"You can say that again." Cassidy sighed, looking inwardly again for a moment before continuing. The cork had popped on everything she'd bottled up, and she couldn't stop her story falling from her lips. "You ever heard of Mary Valvona?"

Michael shook his head. "I don't think so." 

"She was, _maybe still is_ , the boss of the Pavano family. My whole life all I'd known is women obeying their husbands but then one day I heard about her. My dad's men would talk about her in whispers, like she was the fuckin' boogie man or some shit." she chuckled, her accent lifting through once more. "They were scared of her, and to see that contrast to the women like my mom, I just...I dunno...I think it started something in me." she revealed. "I kept hearing about this mythical woman who broke everyone's balls and ran the second most powerful family in LC. This woman, that all these tough, powerful guys seemed fucking terrified of." There was an almost childlike excitement in her voice, showing Michael that the hope this woman's reputation had given Cassidy was still within her.

"So you wanted to be like her?" he asked out. 

"Yeah." she nodded. "It was a stupid idea but I think knowing that she was out there made me believe there was something else for women in that world. Something that told me I had other options than just getting married or going to beauty school. Knowing who she was seemed to tell me that if I wanted it, I could be something. I could be like her and hold my own in the world my dad lived in." The enthusiasm in her voice was so strong, for a moment Michael questioned if she still wished to be chasing the dream. "...I got a stupid idea in my head that I could square up to him, and challenge all the shit he valued more than me. Prove that I was worth something more than what he made me feel. Make him respect me the way he demanded we respected him..." she chuckled emptily at the foolishness of it all. How she'd seen success so clearly in her head that she'd let it lead her down some of the darkest paths. 

Michael understood that side of her life too; having once held a hope of helping his mother get free of his father and all the bullshit and chaos he bought to her life, but of course it had all being in vain. Her beliefs and values kept her hanging on the a marriage that so frequently came close to breaking her entirely and he couldn't stand to watch. Already he was beginning to assume Cassidy's story would end the similarly, given all he knew so far. 

"Pretty much my whole life I never did what I was told by either of my parents, or anyone." Cassidy continued, considering the teachers she'd had who lost patience with her. "And the older I got the worse that side of me became. I would do everything possible to go in the _opposite_ direction that everyone else went in. Someone told me to go left, I'd right just to spite them." Michael gave a soft chuckle, suggesting he wasn't surprised. "...I refused to be the good daughter and fall into line with all the other girls." her tone suggested she seemed to hold some contempt for her younger self and her stubbornness, that part of her wished she'd had different ambitions. 

"Did it work?" 

"Eventually." she nodded. "I was about fifteen when I fell in with a real bad crowd....it seemed like the best place to start proving I was as tough as I thought I was. That I was just as capable and hard as the guys in his organization..." she intended to stop there but her mouth was running away from her just the same as Michael's had so many times in her office. "I think I thought it'd be some miracle cure for him to see me like that, like maybe he'd give a shit about me if he thought I was strong. Maybe he'd respect me enough to stop hurting our family, and ma-" she stopped short. "...I dunno, I thought maybe we'd bond or some shit...."

Michael sensed there was much more to it, but she wasn't sure how to explain what drove her teenage self and he understood - he couldn't properly explain some of the choices he'd made in his life either. It seemed like most of his life he'd been caught in a snowball that rolled downhill, gathering speed and growing bigger and bigger as it ran out of his control. 

"I guess that didn't work?"

"Not how I thought it would." she confirmed with a nod. "I started out selling weed and a bit of Molly around school and shit, I looked pretty unassuming back then and I could get away with it easier than other people could. I don't think I knew what I was doing, but it felt like a means to an end, and I thought I had it under control, that things were gonna go my way but...." she trailed off. 

Curiously Michael frowned. "But what?" He could sense there was a catalyst that pushed her deeper into a life of crime.

"Things got heavy so fast and I don't think I even realized it because the more I did, the more I wanted to do." Cassidy looked at Michael, wondering if he wanted details, and the look on his face said it all. 

"I started getting into fights with anyone who looked at me wrong or questioned what I was doing, I became so angry, and I was trying to prove how tough I thought I was as quickly as I could." Michael could see in her eyes that she was ashamed of herself, and disgusted by the choices she'd made but it was obvious at the time she'd known no better. "Then somehow that and the small time drug dealing escalated into robbing houses, then knocking over liquor stores. Somewhere along the line I started selling coke, jacking and racing cars, selling them to chop shops. All kinds of stupid reckless shit!" she hissed as herself. "I spent about three years living by the seat of my pants, running with the worst crowd in town. Every week it was either a shoot out, or a police chase, dodging bust after bust. I got more ballsy with every bullet that missed me. Pissing off more and more people the deeper I got into it. Pushing my luck as far as it'd go." she shook her head disappointedly. Feeling uncomfortable in reliving her past while also feeling as if it wasn't her past at all. 

She'd spent so long changing her ways and detaching from the things she'd done and what she'd once wanted, it felt like she hadn't been that person at all. That it was as if someone else had been in her body. Someone who'd taken whatever she wanted with as much force as she could muster without a care for the consequences of the time. It was hard to connect with the girl she'd once been, but even after years of change one thing remained clear in her head; a feeling that she couldn't ever fully shake. 

"I hurt a lot of people." she whispered, her eyes losing focus as silence fell over them for a moment or two. 

Michael understood where she was. How the guilt had tried so hard to rot everything good inside him, and around him. How hard it was to shoulder the burden of bad choices, and worse choices. The weight of it all simultaneously crushed him and pushed him deeper into places he wanted to avoid. 

"I saw all that shit as experience," she continued, staring into the darkness at the edges of her bedroom. "I didn't really even consider who I was hurting by doing that kinda crap. I just cared about making a name for myself, climbing up another rung on the ladder. I crushed anyone who tried to get in my way and if I couldn't go round 'em, I went through 'em..."

Michael nodded acceptingly, even though she didn't look at him. In the heat of the moment, blinded by greed or necessity, he hadn't considered anyone else or the wider impact of his actions either. He rarely thought about them at all as a younger man, but as he got older and had a family of his own, and made ties to people and places, he realized how his choices had been like throwing a rock into a lake. Sending ripples outwards, impacting on dozens of people. Most of whom he'd never met, or even considered to exist. 

"I think I always hated what I was doing," Cassidy continued. "...I knew it was wrong and that it was stupid. 'Cause I'd end up spending most nights getting so drunk I'd pass out...I just wanted to keep moving forward...hoping the ends justified the means." Michael nodded again, her words hitting home in a powerful way. "I only really went home when I needed clean clothes or help getting rid of whatever heat was on my ass." she confessed. 

"I get it." Michael assured. "I think maybe we all start out in a similar way." 

"Yeah, I guess." Cassidy whispered, feeling guilt pushing down on her back. She could hardly believe she was talking so much; she couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken so candidly about herself but something about his presence was comforting in ways she hadn't experienced before. 

"Did your plan work?" he asked, eager to know how her past had lead her into the future there with him. 

"Kind of. Before too long word got around what I was doing. I was a pretty good shot and a better driver. That I'd use my _'feminine wiles'_ to work a mark too." Something sparkled in Michael's eyes, which suggested he knew exactly what she meant by that. He'd known a woman or two in the past who knew how to apply their unique abilities to score. "...Eventually some of the guys in my dad's organization started to take notice of the waves I was making around town, and before I knew it I was transitioning from the street crime shit to more organized jobs and hits. I guess you could say I got the promotion I was working for." she chuckled emptily, trying hard to keep the darkness of her past as light as possible. 

Michael gave a soft laugh in return but he felt no humour either. He had a feeling already that being embroiled in her father's business was the biggest mistake of her life. 

"My dad was pissed about it but the more he tried to force me out, the more I forced my way back in and eventually he just gave up fighting it." 

"Good to know you've always been stubborn." Michael teased gently, hoping to ease the pain he saw in his eyes. She snickered lightly, pleased that he was trying to offer her a little light in the darkness. "So what happened then?"

"He made everyone give me the grunt work, I think he thought I'd get bored and give up. I sat around doing nothing most of the time, helping with the books and boring shit that anyone could do. Then when they did get me involved I was just running interference, tailing people or keeping look out, that kind of stuff. Then I guess I started to prove myself and then I graduated to helping to take down warehouses, hijacking trucks. Fencing the stolen goods on the street and in clubs, all that kinda shit. Still pretty low level stuff, but I felt like I was finally a part of 'the family business' which now, looking back, I guess was what I wanted all along." Michael nodded, following with interest. 

"My dad hated it and I'm pretty sure he just let me get involved to humour me and maybe to keep an eye on me." Cassidy mused. "As much as we didn't get on I think he cared about the trouble I was in. I think he thought that it was safer for me to do that shit under his watch than out on my own, messing with his rivals. I always got the feeling that he thought I'd get tired of it eventually or that I'd spook or that maybe I'd meet a guy and give it all up, or grow out of it. _Whatever!_ Which of course just made me want to prove myself even more."

"Of course!" Michael nodded again, relating to what she was saying well enough. He took a moment to reflect back on their conversation weeks earlier about Jimmy and his muted rebellion, and realized that she'd been speaking to him from a position of true understanding about that too. 

However, despite all that she'd revealed he still sensed she was struggling to find a way to concisely summarize all that she'd been though. That she was close to being dragged under by painful memories and failures that haunted her just the same as his own haunted him. 

"So how did you wind up here? I mean, it's a pretty big jump from wanting to be a mob boss to being a shrink..." 

Cassidy took a deep breath, the most painful part of the story was yet to escape her lips. "Yeah...well, I got the proverbial fire lit under my ass." she scoffed, looking at Michael for a moment who wore a curious look. "That something my dad thought would happen to scare me off?" she questioned, subconsciously checking he was following. "It happened." Michael frowned at her, wondering what on earth could have made her run from a life she was so committed to. 

"I had this neighbour... _a friend_...named Emma." she told her voice holding strong against the emotion. 

A recent memory triggered in Michael's head, the image of a teenaged Cassidy and a pretty blonde girl. "The girl in the picture in your car?"

Cassidy looked up at him, an odd expression on her face as she quickly put the parts together. Recalling she'd left him alone in her car for a few minutes weeks ago. "Yeah." she nodded, surprised he'd remembered such a trivial detail. 

"We lived next door to each other our whole lives and she was always where I ran to when things got shitty at home." she told softly. "She was absolutely nothing like me, _at all_....and how the hell we got on as well as we did...I don't even know to this day." a faint smile played on her lips as she reminisced. "She came from really good white collar family. Her parents were clean as a whistle and for some reason they were really nice to me. I mean, they had to know all the shit my dad was into but it didn't seem to bother them. And Emma was real smart, she stayed in school, got good grades and she was basically everything that I should have been but wasn't."

"So what happened to her?" Michael sensed there wasn't a happy ending to their friendship. 

Cassidy's eyes lost focus and fell to her hands, where she picked nervously at her thumbnail. "We'd both just turned twenty-one and she was home from college for summer. I was in neck deep with all the crime and shit. That spring my dad needed to have surgery and so he'd given me more responsibility while he was recovering and I felt like I was really getting somewhere. She knew all about it and she didn't judge but she wanted to keep it out of our friendship.....I was fine with that, I liked having someone who saw me for me, not the person I was trying to be for everyone else." Michael nodded again, deeply relating to that claim. 

"One night in the middle of summer, I somehow convinced her to come to a party some people I knew were having at this big house that was being renovated. It wasn't her thing at all, but I thought it'd be fun for us, and I wouldn't take no for an answer. She gave in eventually and came with me...." her eyes looked distant as she recalled painful memoirs of the night that had changed the course of her life. "....We had fun for a couple hours but somehow I lost her in the crowds." Cassidy swallowed hard, trying to filter out the emotion that was still so raw inside her. "It was still early so I didn't worry too much about her, she was the kind of girl everyone liked so I figured she'd found someone to chat to." the expression on her face said that she wished she hadn't been so complacent. 

"I eventually caught up to her outside. She was out on the deck with a bunch of guys I knew, son's of my dad's men and some guys from another crew who they were friends with. I don't how it happened, but it the situation looked ugly. They had her cornered and she looked terrified and I knew what they were gonna do," she said darkly, her tone suggesting that wasn't the first time she'd witness similar. "...I ran down to her, and I tried to get her away from them. Told them to back off..." she said her voice soft like she was floating away back into the memory she'd kept locked away in her head for years. "Shit blew up, and I started throwing punches and a fight broke out." she stopped dead, her eyes closing as she took in a deep breath, reliving the moment for the thousandth time in her head. "It all happened so fast. Somewhere she must of got pushed and I guess a rail was loose or something and....she fell." 

"Oh shit." 

"I saw her go and screamed, tried to get to her but it was too late," it seemed like she was going to pause but she pushed through it, too afraid to properly recall that moment. "Of course they all saw what had happened too and scattered like fuckin' roaches when the light goes on." she growled. "I don't really remember what happened after that, it's all still a blur. But someone called an ambulance, and took her to hospital. All I can really remember is her parents showing up and the doctors telling us there was nothing they could do...she was gone."

"Jesus, Cass. I'm sorry."

She put her hand to her mouth, afraid she might breakdown completely in front of him. The pressure inside her needed to be released with a sob but she refused to give in. "I can still see the way her folks looked at me...." she paused for a moment, closing her eyes tight as if trying to push away the flashbacks in her mind. The look of loss was enough to change her perspective on her way of life. "...They blamed me, they knew it was all my fault."

"You weren't to know what would happen."

"I shoulda known!" she snapped. "I knew what those assholes were like well enough. How they picked on any girl who showed the slightest bit of weakness around them." her words were loaded and Michael sensed she'd been in her friends position herself at some point, maybe more than once. "I should never have taken her to the stupid fucking party. She told me she didn't want to go." her voice almost cracked and she swallowed hard. 

In that moment Michael understood why she'd been harsh on him about his life of crime; why she'd mentioned the impact his choices had on other people who he never considered. He understood why she pushed on those issues, because she herself understood what it was like to see people suffer as a result of her own actions. 

With a renewed sense of guilt building on his own shoulders he looked her over. Even in the dim light of her bedroom he could see that she looked haunted. Her mask was off and he could see just how much remorse she carried with her constantly. How burdened she really was underneath it all. 

His mind flashed to Trevor again. Wondering for the briefest of moments, if faking his death had a similar impact on his best friend all those years ago, but he didn't want to think about it. He conscience couldn't stand to. 

"Is that why you left LC?" he asked quickly. 

"No." she shook her head. "I left because once they told me she was gone, I felt this anger in me, like nothing I'd ever felt before. My skin felt hot with it." she recalled. "So I went home, I got a gun an-" her voice faultered for a moment as she felt the ghost of the anger walk through her. Trying to keep a hold of the coping skills she'd learned during her studies, she took a deep breath and centered herself again before continuing. 

"...I went looking for the guys who'd been messing with her. I found 'em at this deli they liked to hang out at. They were in the back, playing poker and getting shitfaced drunk like nothing had happened. Like they were fuckin' untouchable."

"So what happened?" Michael asked, his voice low and concerned. He felt like he already knew what she was about to say, but he needed to hear it in her words. 

"I shot two of them before they even realized I was in there." 

"Shit!" Michael hissed. 

She paused for a moment, staring into the dim light of her bedroom, recalling all the guts and brains that were sprayed around the small back room. The smell of blood and cordite caught in her nose, and didn't leave for weeks afterwards. 

"I thought I was going to die in the back of that deli, and I think maybe I wanted to..." she admitted, distantly. "I just kept seeing her lying there down on the ground and that look her folks gave me..." she closed her eyes tightly for a moment, and Michael was unsure if she was trying to squeeze away tears or visions. "I tried to take as many of those assholes as I could out with me....I got clipped in side," she put her hand over her ribs instinctively. 

Michael instantly recalled she had a tattoo of a female silhouette and a date etched there. He quickly assumed the tattoo must have covered over the scar she'd been left with, in memorial to her friend. His mind flashed to Trevor, the inking on his shoulder, and Michael's heart sank with a renewed sense of guilt for his own actions. 

"I fell behind some boxes." she continued, trying to remember how things had played out but only being able to properly recall the haze of cigarette and gun smoke, the sound of bullets pinging off the walls, and the warmth of blood as it soaked through her top and into the waistband of her jeans. "I don't even know how I got out of there alive to be honest." she sighed heavily. "Jesus Christ! There were bullets and shit flying everywhere, but I just kept shooting and moving for the door. Scrambled out and ran as fast and far as I could."

Michael looked her over, as she nibbled on the nail of her thumb and starred into the dark corner of her room, as if she could see the scene playing out there. He couldn't separate the feelings inside him enough to tell if he was impressed or terrified, but the strangest sense of respect for her settled firmly within him. 

"I made it down to an underpass and just sat there and cried my fucking eyes out until the sun started to come up and the pain from the damage I'd taken got too much." Michael's heart felt heavy for her, knowing how difficult the aftermath of such an event could be. "By the time I got home, word had got back to my dad and he was waiting for me." 

"Shit!" he sighed, already guessing where the story ended. 

"There was no point in denying it, he knew it was me. The whole fucking city did!" she exclaimed. "He'd already told my mom what I'd done and he'd decided that I was no longer his daughter. He'd worked long and hard to build the family up and he'd just started to trust me, but what I'd done stood to destroy everything. I'd killed the son's of his men and one of his rival's too, it was enough to start an all out war." she admitted, partly shamed to have taken lives but in part glad she'd wiped a few scumbags off the streets. "It was one mess that was too big for him to clean up. He told me he'd give me an hour's head start. Ordered me to pack my shit and never let him see my face again. Told me he'd kill me himself if he ever did."

"Fuck me." Michael mumbled, worried by the nonchalance in Cassidy's voice. 

"...course, I tried to argue with him, but he hit me. I was already dizzy with the blood loss and he caught me off guard, knocked me clean into the edge of his desk." she told, pressing just above her right temple. "I've still got a scar." she rubbed her fingertip over the razor thin line that ran along her hairline. "I looked to my mom, to try and get her to understand why I'd done what I did, what had happened to Emma....but she didn't care. He'd already told her that if she tried to side with me, he'd disown her too and I guess her marriage and that lifestyle meant more to her than I did." 

"Shit, Cass." Michael sighed, understanding all too well how badly that must have hurt her, having seen his own mother favour life with his deadbeat father over anything he could offer her. 

"So I did what I was told, for the first time ever." she said on a hollow chuckle. "I packed my shit, loaded up my car and drove as far as I could before I felt myself passing out....I woke up, found a gas station. Patched myself up and drove until I ran out of road and I ended up in Vice City." 

Michael shook his head softly, the matter-of-fact tone she told her story in suggested that she still hadn't fully acknowledged what happened that day. He didn't have to try too hard to imagine how she must have felt to go through so much and the strangest of aches settled within him at the thought of her suffering. 

"What'd you do there?" he asked, moving the conversation away from things that he knew would trigger his protective instincts and get him angry. 

"Spent about three weeks locked in a motel room crying, thinking of all the people I hurt, for nothing. Slowly trying to kill myself with booze and drugs." she told, her eyes glistening with tears. "It wasn't working and I didn't have the balls to kill myself quick, but I tried a few times." she gave another empty and almost macabre, chuckle. Trying to play down the trauma she'd been through. 

Michael's eyes softened, looking at her in a new light. Even though she seemed so fragile all he could see was strength. Strength enough to survive in the criminal underworld, and the tenacity to rebuild herself from the ashes and turn her life around. 

"I eventually figured that was the hand I'd been dealt." she continued. "Told myself I had to suck it up and live with the guilt. Carry on somehow." she confessed. "I didn't have a clue what I was gonna do, but just the thought of going back to the criminal stuff...having witnessed the other end of spectrum...seeing what that kind of destruction can do to someone...I couldn't stand the idea of doing what I used to do." she told him and he understood why she had sometimes seemed to have so much contempt for his lifestyle. "Luckily I'd saved up a fair bit of money over the years, so I was doing okay but I found a job at a strip club three nights a week and worked at a seedy bar for the rest." 

"So that's where you learned to dance?" he smiled, his mind latching onto a beam of light that the idea of her dancing naked for him created. 

She laughed, unsurprised that he'd pick up on something positive he could use. "Yeah."

"So how the hell did you wind up becoming a shrink?" 

The puzzled look on his face amused her. "Well, I saw an advert for community college in the newspaper, and I guess I figured that rather than letting people tell me their troubles for free across the bar, or while they stuffed dollar bills in my underwear, maybe I should learn how to do it with a couch and a coffee table instead." 

"Smart move." 

"I guess." 

"So how'd you end up in New Austin?"

"How'd you know about that?" she exclaimed, a deep frown settling over her curious eyes. 

It was Michael's time to confess a secret. "Oh, you know...I mighta searched for you online a couple times." 

"You are shameless." she chuckled, genuine amusement clearly showing for the first time since she began her story. 

"I know." he gave a facial shrug briefly before smiling at her again. "I couldn't stop thinkin' about you from the moment we met." he confessed. "Think somethin' inside me knew what was inside you." 

The horrible emotions she was feeling inside moved over for a moment, allowing a touch of happiness in for just a second before her mind clouded over with darkness once more. Michael saw her eyes change and couldn't stop himself reaching out across the bed to her, and putting his hand on hers. 

She looked down to where their hands joined, finding comfort and confidence in his touch, as he asked. "What happened in VC?" 

She looked up at him, and sighed. Taking a moment to move close to him, shuffling up to the top of the bed and leaning against the headboard besides him, now she was sure he wasn't going to run after learning who she really was. 

"I guess I said too much to the wrong person and they tipped of the crew back home...and you know, those kinda people don't like anyone to get away with murdering their own..." 

Now understanding Cassidy's reluctance to trust him, Michael felt his frustrations growing. An urge to offer her some kind of safety began to course though him powerfully. "They came for you?" 

"Yeah. Just as I got settled there, made a life for myself, suddenly I was running again." 

"That's fucked up." Michael shook his head softly, struggling to understand how she'd managed to hold it together so well. Ten years of being safe on the lam had almost broken him, he couldn't imagine how much harder it would have been to live in full blown fear. She seemed to have herself together in a way he could only dream of. 

She nodded, almost nonchalantly. As if she'd come to terms with the fact that a settled life was only a temporary thing. "I spent a couple of months moving from state to state, trying to drop any trail I might of left. I didn't know what I was gonna do but I found a guy who was real smart on computers and I paid him to change the name on all my documentation and certificates and I applied to university in New Austin...by some stroke of luck I got in." she revealed. "I really don't know how it panned out so well, I didn't deserve it to." she admitted, finding herself constantly wondering when bad karma would come for her. "I think I saw it as a second chance, so I kept my head down, studied hard and worked shitty jobs and somehow things turned out okay." 

"So what made you come out here?" 

"To be honest, I don't know. I always loved the beach. Me, Emma and my sisters used to hop on a train to the Carraways all the time just to be by the ocean, so..." she shrugged. "It just felt like the best place....far enough away from everything, good job opportunities. That and the fact I had a really shitty ex who I wanted to get away from." 

"What'd he do?" 

" _She._ " Cassidy corrected. 

A look of surprise washed over Michael's face, his mouth falling open a little way. Gawking at her for a beat before he chuckled out "Oh, fuck!" nervously. Uncertain in that moment if he was panicked or turned on by her sexuality. "So I gotta worry about guys _and_ girls around you?" 

She laughed at the typical response. " _No!_ I might be attracted to both but I'm not a cheater." she didn't realize what she'd said until the words slipped from her lips, and dark clouds moved across to cover to sparkle in his eyes. 

"Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't....I..."

"It's alright. I know what I am." he told flatly. 

She felt cold all of a sudden, worse than when she'd confessed to her past. A rush of panicked guilt consuming her every thought and function. "This shouldn't have happened." she told adamantly. Pulling her hand from his and clutching at the sheets, about to make a move out of bed, but he was too fast. Reaching out to grab her arm, stopping her in her tracks. 

"Don't you dare!" he ordered, keeping her in place with a firm but gently grip. "I know this is a shitty thing to do, 'specially when I promised to be a better husband but my marriage - it's over." he insisted. "Has been for a long time. I was just treadin' water 'til you came along." 

"That don't make it right." she dismissed weakly, and Michael loosened his grip on her arm. 

"I know it doesn't. I ain't sayin' it does, but...."

For a beat, all Cassidy could see was the similarities between her parent's difficulties and the complications that entangled her, Michael and his wife. How she'd inadvertently become what she'd tried so hard to avoid by letting her heart control her head. 

"This is exactly the type of shit I never wanted to get caught up in. I don't wanna be my mother and I don't want to make someone else become her either."

Michael scowled, annoyed at how hard she was suddenly pushing to cancel out the time they'd shared together. "It's not like that!"

"Of course it is!" she cried. "You're here with me because you're not getting something you want from your wife, that's exactly what my da-"

Michael felt an acidic panic skitter through his stomach at the very idea that he was about to lose her and that she'd come to see him in a way he knew she'd hate. "I'm not like him." he insisted firmly. "I'm here with you because I've never felt like this about anyone before, and I just wanna see where that goes."

She shook her head dismissively, an urge to roll her eyes came over her but something in the tone of his voice prevented it. Somewhere deep inside she knew his words were probably bullshit. She'd read enough to know how manipulative he could be but she couldn't fight the feeling he was being genuine. 

She was unsure if it was her foolish sense of hope, or late hour or the rawness of the emotions inside but something took the fight right out of her. She'd created a terrible mess for herself, there was no denying that but if it was in fact a mistake, she'd deal with it in the morning. For the rest of the night she just wanted to enjoy being with someone who seemed to understand and care. 

"Thank you for tellin' me who you are." he gave her softly, almost as if he was verging on shyness. "I know I had no right to know, but all this time I've felt like you got it, like you know what it's like to live this life, and now I know you do." 

She gave a soft nod, uncertain how she felt about them having so much in common. "Guess so." 

She'd always understood the toll his crimes had taken on him, how money was the root of all his problems, how it felt to feel blood covered hands and all the guilt that came with them. How hard it was to move out of a dark past and live one life as two very different people. It should have scared her to find so many similarities in a man like him but for the first time in the longest time, she felt connected to someone. Content just to be near another person who had an idea of what it was like to be her. 

Worried that the feeling of belonging she got from him would consume her completely, she sat up straighter, shrugging off the intensity of everything that had been said by them that night. It all felt so heavy, and like one of them might be foolish enough to say a few words that would solidify everything they thought and felt for one another. 

"Jesus! We shouldn't have got this intense, way to ruin the afterglow." she joked.

Michael chuckled, knowing she still had a lot of history to catch him up on, and a lot of pain that needed to be soothed, but in that moment she trusted in him and she wasn't about to run away. It felt like that was all he could ask for that first night. 

"Well, in that case, maybe we better make another one...and I'll try not to ruin it." he smirked lazily, moving into her with a hungry gaze. The sadness in her eyes lifted as his lips founded hers again, and he began to kiss her. Pushing the painful memories further back into the box she kept them in with each second his lips touched hers. 

She found herself melting into him so easily but still at the very back of her mind there was a consideration that told her she was disgusting and wrong for becoming the other woman -that she was making yet another mistake- but it was clear to her that they had something that needed to be explored, regardless of the risks and the effects on everyone involved. 

She'd done the impossible and found someone who understood, better than anyone else she was ever likely to know or feel something for. Someone who seemed to accept all her sins and who's eyes silently promised they might help shoulder the burdens she'd carried alone for so long. 

She understood him, and he understood her and the comfort that acceptance bought offered healing and hope for a better future. The bond they'd forged through similar experiences seemed to promise enough good things to ensure the war they'd have to fight to let their love blossom would be worthwhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo....I hope that was worth the ridiculously long wait haha! As always, I would love to know what you guys think and I promise I will do my best not to leave you waiting so long for the next installment as long as you all still want it? :o) Thanks for reading!


	28. Creased Cotton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a huge thank you to everyone who showed me love on the last chapter. I was a bit nervous about finally revealing Cassidy's past so to see such an awesome response was amazing. You guys are the absolute best! <3
> 
> So, this was originally one huge (like eighteen thousand plus word) chapter, and editing it was taking Goddamn forever, so I chopped it up so as not to leave you guys waiting any longer for an update. This is a transitional chapter covering "the morning after" and giving another look into Cassidy's personality and her issues. I hope it's enjoyable enough to tide you all over for a little while as I edit up the next part. 
> 
> Oh, and please take a second to check out the awesome pieces of fan art [[1]](http://milliondollarmangta.tumblr.com/post/156011124860/i-had-to-share-this-here-with-you-guys-the-lovely) [[2]](http://milliondollarmangta.tumblr.com/post/156099888085/i-had-a-wonderful-start-to-the-day-today-finding) that the amazing AZNativeJay32 made for me. It's a writer's dream to have someone create a piece of fan art for their stories, and especially their OC characters. I feel so blessed to have been gifted with something like this which means the absolute world and has made my 2017 already! Thanks again, Jay! 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this installment! :o)

  
_"11am._  
_By now you would think,_  
_That I would be up,_  
_But my bedsheets shade,_  
_The heated choices I made,_  
_What did I find?_  
_I never thought I could want,_  
_Someone so much,_  
_'Cause now you're not here,_  
_And I'm knee deep,_  
_In my own fear...._  


**\-- 11am by Incubus**

The first thing Cassidy was aware of as her mind lifted out of unconsciousness was the sound of seagulls on the other side of her bedroom's terrace doors. Flocks of them out there on the beach in the early morning sun, squawking as they hovered over the ocean and plucked out their wormy breakfast from the golden sand. 

She'd lived in the house long enough to no longer wake in a flash of panic over where she was, and that luxury allowed for a brief moment of blissful nothingness in her head. The thirty seconds -maybe a minute, if she was lucky- when she truly forgot all the memories that forever pressed hauntingly against her back. 

Comfortable in the void, she nuzzled into her pillow squeezing her eyes tighter closed in a last push to stay asleep, but as the moment of nothingness lifted she became uncomfortably aware of a stiffness in her body that disturbed her sense of tranquillity. 

Defeated, she slowly rolled over onto her back, keeping her tired eyes closed against the brightness she could now see glowing in from the other side of her eyelids. Groaning softly at the concept of waking up, her mind slowly began to reboot and load up all the past day's memories. 

She stretched out her arms lazily and stroked her hands across the cotton sheets, just as she did each morning. Giving her dormant muscles a moment to come to terms with being active, as she breathed the new day in deeply. 

She loved those first few minutes of each morning, where there were no worries in her head or ghosts pacing in the corners of her mind. It was near perfect -effortless- oblivion. She could have stayed lying there forever, with an empty mind and relaxed body but as her brain booted back up it bought an abrupt ending to her serene state. Flashing up an image of Michael across the backs of her eyelids in full colour. Instantly cracking open the shell that had formed around her memory of the night before. 

Her limbs locked with a heaviness as recollection began to pour into her mind, sending all the comforting warmth in her stomach plummeting down into a cold nothingness. Alarmed, she instantly realized what the empty space on the mattress besides her meant.

Momentary panic made her eyes snap open and forced her to sit bolt upright in bed. Turning her head to look at the stark white sheets; finding that creases in the cotton were the only sign that life had once played out across them. 

Troubled by the emptiness, she looked around the room quickly as a thousand questions began crowding into her mind. It seemed redundant to search for him in an empty room but some part of her needed to be certain she was completely alone, even though she could already feel it on every inch of her skin. 

With a solitary sadness heavy in her eyes she scanned around for proof of the night before; for a solid trace of him. A clue that would confirm -for better or worse- that she hadn't dreamt their whole encounter thrashing around in bed by herself. Just one sign that would prove she hadn't made the whole thing up in a drunken stupor, but she could see no trace of him. 

She could, however, smell him on her. On the bed sheets, the pillow besides her, in the room all around her. A masculine musk with a hint of rich, faded cologne and a wisp of cigarette smoke. They'd been together - _she hadn't made it up_ \- but it was as clear as the daylight pouring through the balcony doors that he'd woken with regrets. 

With a heavy sense of disappointment blossoming in her stomach, she took a deep breath and tried not to acknowledge the way it sounded almost like a whimper. Closing her eyes tightly to push herself back from the edge of despair by she tuning her ears into the sounds of the house. Foolishly searching for another sign that could hint he was still inside somewhere. A sign of life that might give her a thread of hope to say he hadn't abandoned her in the way she'd always assumed he would. 

A caustic sensation began to burn in her chest as the urge to chastise herself for her stupidity slowly built. A nagging little voice in her head told her she'd been such a fool to allow something to happen between them, but she bravely turned a deaf ear. She didn't want to hear it, not then. Not in the broad daylight that offered sanctuary from the darkness within. 

Yet the sense of emptiness in the room seemed to loudly shout that she'd been an idiot to trust him and believe he was genuine. That all his words about having deeper feelings for her were lies; the product of a night of chaos and raw emotion. Weeks of mixed messages making him believe he felt something more for her than just a hardening in his pants. 

It seemed obvious in his absence that all his talk about wanting her for something more than an easy thrill was simply just another of his cons. Another lie and manipulation that had twisted her into eating out of his hand. Allowing him to stroll right into her heart, steal away her trust in exchange for false hope, and then making his getaway like a true thief in the night.

She knew if she thought about the choice she'd made for longer than a moment she'd sink into a pit of regret that she might never get out of. She didn't want to believe she'd let herself fall for all his talk. She'd been warned about the ways he manipulated people, and she'd spent the majority of her life being stubborn to a fault. Refusing to bend to anyone's will, no matter how hard they pushed. Yet now she was left with nothing, she couldn't help but feel as if she'd let him walk all over her in a way no other had before. 

It crossed her mind to wonder if perhaps it had been her truth that had scared him away, like so many others before him. Maybe he had true intentions until she'd told him of her past. Men like him had never seemed to like the kind of woman she had once been. The type who challenged their dominance at every turn and made them question if they really were supposed to be considered the stronger of the sexes. 

It stood to reason that after nagging her secrets out of her that he didn't like what he heard. She'd known all along that he would reject who she really was. Once he learned that she didn't fit the image of the perfect and gentle woman that he thought he was chasing. The woman that would fit the Vinewood romance ideal in his head. She had hands that were as bloodied as his, and it was easy to believe a man like him wouldn't be able to stand living with her past mistakes as well as his own. 

In the back of her mind she'd always been certain that he'd run once he'd got what he wanted; be that her truth or her body. Regardless of what either of them said or promised, soon as the itch was scratched, and his needs were met he'd lose interest. It seemed obvious that he'd had his fill and gone back home to his wife, forgetting all about what he'd said to her the night before in her kitchen. Writing the night off as a mistake; only daring to remember their encounter whenever he needed another reason to beat himself up at some point in the future. 

Just thinking of those possibilities that gave her further reason to feel so much shame and the pressure of a dozen negative emotions began to stir and swirl, but something was blocking them from exploding out of her. She knew it was the daylight, and how her problems always seemed better in the sunshine. How as long as the sun was burning in the sky, she could find the energy to keep running and resist looking backwards and all her losses and mistakes. 

Throughout her life it had seemed like the warmth of the sun gave her strength and a sense of determination. Like the light and activity out in the world plugged her ears to the inner negativity. As if it somehow helped her build a dam inside to hold back the torrents of emotions that longed to burst free. A dam that she knew would break at some point later that day, when it turned dark and all her demons came out to play again.

She fell back into bed once more, letting out an aggravated breath that vibrated noisily on her lips as her head hit the pillow. She felt like she was at an impasse, her emotions weren't yet ready to take another brutal beating but she wasn't capable of putting what she'd done with him behind her either. She wasn't ready to be practical and sign him off as another lost relationship in her life, another rejection for who she was and the things she'd done. As despite her doggedness to ignore it, a tiny part of her held a burning hope that she'd read the lonely scene in her bedroom all wrong. 

Unsure what to do with herself, she closed her eyes tightly, and tried not to listen to the nasty little voice in her head that was getting louder with every second. She couldn't bear to think too hard, afraid to consider the amount of damage she'd done to him and his family, or herself and her career and everything in between. How everything stood to unravel over one irrational impulse to spend the night with a man that got into a head in a way no other ever had. A man who apparently couldn't escape his _'want it-get it-hate it'_ mentality, which had obviously come into play post-coitus. 

She let out a dark chuckle into the quiet room. Strangely amused at how predictable it all was, how history was repeating itself and disappointing her all over again. Michael's life story was to want things only to get them and end up hating them, while her own was a tale of wanting things, to get them and lose them.

She didn't like the person she became when life stole away another person from her life, and as the ebb and flow of emotions that built inside threatened to pull her under and drown her, the solar-powered inner strength fought back. 

_Nope!_ She wasn't going to drown, not that morning in the sunlight, that night in the dark, or ever if she had anything to do with it. She wasn't going to cry over that asshole using her and running off. The sex had been great, and mutually beneficial. While it wasn't worth ruining her career -or sanity over- it had happened. _It was done._ There was no going back and no use in hating herself more than she already did. There was no point in using her current mistakes to tear off the dust sheets from over the errors of her past. 

The rush of panic and subsequent worry over her actions had woken her; better than even her usual morning stretching routine or strong coffee ever could, and a sudden burst of conviction spurred her on. 

Adamantly she told herself it was for the best that he'd walked away. Now they'd both got it out of their system they could draw a line under their relationship. _If she could even dare call it that._ At least with him leaving it would prevent her making another mistake. She could maybe forgive herself for just one, but if he'd stuck around she wasn't sure she'd be able to resist repeating the same mistake over and over. She knew all too well that one bad choice on top of another only stood to make things that much worse for everyone. 

She let out a huff of hollow laughter to the empty room, showing her contempt for herself and the way her stomach was ruthlessly twisting with disappointment but somehow she refused to acknowledge just how high she'd built her hopes on Michael fuckin' De Santa. Firmly she told herself it was better that he'd gone -for both their sakes- it was safer if they never saw one another again. 

Chalk it up to another life lesson and move on. Write him off as another relationship lost, another disappointment. As long as no one ever found out what she'd done, it would all be okay. She'd just have one night to feel bad about, and not a laundry list of things that a clandestine relationship with him would surely bring. Even though she'd subconsciously hoped for something serious to develop between them, she knew their night together was simply a long goodbye.

She had to be pragmatic; there was no use wishing him back, pleading and bargaining for things to be different. She'd done that a million times in the past, and it changed nothing. She had to focus beyond him now that the sexual tension had been relieved and she could _finally_ put her mind onto something, or _someone_ else. Learn from her mistakes and find someone else to really connect with, and next time keep her secrets to herself. 

Trying as hard as she could to keep positive, and ignore the rapidly expanding ache in her chest. She hardened her mind to all the gloomy emotions and broken dreams that echoed through her. With a fragile sense of purpose she flipped the sheets off her and threw her legs over the side of the bed, getting to her feet without a hesitation. Doing her very best to ignore all the demons that were starting to crowd into her head, hungry to feast on the blood they'd smelled dripping from the wounds she'd opened up to let him in. 

Keeping her mind targeted forwards, she set about finding some suitable clothes to put on. She'd been trying so hard to forget him in the days since their altercation on Vinewood Boulevard that she'd distracted herself by cleaning her house from top to bottom, at least three times. 

There wasn't a pin out of place in her room for all the tidying and organizing she'd done. Working until her fingers were sore in a bid to divert her focus from any and all thoughts of him, but her hard work had been for naught. 

Almost groaning to herself about how stupid she was to give in to him at the first available opportunity she was presented with, she raised her arms over her head and gave a half hearted stretch, then moved over to her dresser. Pulling open a drawn and looking over the carefully organized underwear in sections denoting style, which were then organized by colour and folded neatly into small fabric packages. 

She gave a faint -almost mocking- laugh, thinking about just how desperate she'd been for any kind of distraction from thoughts of him that she'd resorted to organizing her fucking underwear draw. She'd tried so hard to move beyond hungering for him after she'd cast him out of her life that night in Vinewood almost two weeks earlier, but now it all seemed like such a waste of time and energy.

The neat draw in front of her felt like a symbol of all her foolishness and failures, and a sense of heated anger slipped out from underneath the patchwork blanket of eerily settled emotions within her. Annoyed with herself more so than him, she stuffed her hand into the draw and swept it around like she was dispersing bubble bath in a tub full of water. Messing up all the neatly folded garments and creating a wild blend of different coloured lace and cotton. 

Satisfied with her minor outburst, she snatched out a pair of pink boyshort panties off the top of the muddle, before opening up in the equally as organized draw below to select a white tank top. She hesitated for a second, hovering her hand over the contents but resist the impulse to mess up the second draw too and quickly slammed it closed before she undid all her hard work. 

Holding on as tightly as she could to the determination not to break, did her best to ignore the ghost of his scent on her skin and avoided looking at herself in the mirrored closet doors as she slipped into her clothes. Ashamed of what she'd done and how she'd so easily forgotten all her morals in the face of all his charms. 

The physical movement of getting dressed seemed to divert her energy away from keeping herself shielded and she felt her resolve to hold her head up weakening before it had fully hardened. She closed her eyes again and focused on her breathing. Doing her best to remember the control techniques she taught to her clients. 

In her insistent therapists voice she told herself to keep doing things, _anything_! Just to keep her mind focused and controlled, to prevent herself rolling around in her emotions like a pig in a mud hole before she was strong enough to face up to them. 

She decided she needed some coffee to build the energy to face the day and she had to check the doors of her house were locked up too. Scared that he might be able to return at any moment and shatter her determination to keep running forward, away from the mistake he'd helped her make. 

She stood by the patio doors for a moment, breathing the ocean air and looking out over the twinkling water as she began planning out her day in her head. Plotting step-by-step what she'd do to fight off the invasive thoughts that would intermittently attempt to break her sun-driven determination. 

She easily rang up a list of chores for herself - strip the bed, set the washing machine off. Clean up the living room where she'd patched up the injury on his arm. Maybe move the furniture around a bit to stop herself replaying the scene in her mind. Take a shower and scrub her mistake away. Remove every trace of him from her house before the residual reminders of their time together broke her. Reorganize her underwear draw again, maybe go for a run or a swim, something - _anything_ \- to burn off any excess anxious energy she knew would plague her before the day's end. 

Once all that was done, she could catch up on some organization for work. She still had some files to sort through and type up, as well as some papers to sign and date. A drive into the city and a stop at the Harper Institute for Psychology to post his file under her clinical super visors door wouldn't hurt either. Then perhaps a little retail therapy depending on Sunday opening hours and then home for some language practice. Speaking out loud into the silence of her home would help it feel less empty. Then, if she still couldn't escape thoughts of him, she'd break out the booze and maybe some sleeping tablets. Anything to keep her head above water and stave-off the flashes of his face from her mind, and the ghosts of his touch on her skin. 

With all her planning making noise in her head, she exited her bedroom and headed out into the shaded corridor, moving slowly along under the glass domed above. Comfortable in being completely lost in her mental list making, she blindly reached the top of the staircase the faintest rush of his scent came up from nowhere. She stopped dead as a warm chill ran through her body, calming her for the briefest of moments. 

A fleeting through flashed through her mind, forcing her to wonder if he'd lingered downstairs, maybe long enough to leave a note or something, somewhere..... _No!_ That didn't seem like his style. The mere idea implied that she might mean something more than sex to him, and she couldn't stand to entertain that suggestion. Fearing how hard she'd crash back to earth when she found nothing but more disappointment waiting for her downstairs. 

With her heart weighing heavy in her chest, she took the first step and began to pad barefoot down the stairs. Ignoring the way her lip threatening to tremble and pull the rip cord on her tears, as she struggled to firmly focus on re-running her hectic distraction plans for the day. 

Too preoccupied in trying to divert her mind from how alone she felt to realise that in fact - she wasn't really alone at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did Michael stick around? Or is someone else downstairs? You'll have to wait and see! :oP Hope you all enjoyed, as always I'd love to know what you think and I hope this has still got you wanting more.


	29. Deepest Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments on the last chapter, you always know just how to make a girl smile with the love you show me. 
> 
> So.... while editing what was chapter twenty-nine, but is now chapter thirty, I decided to add a different intro to cover what Michael had gone through alone during the morning after, but apparently he wasn't satisfied with a couple of paragraphs for an intro, he wanted the whole Goddamn chapter to himself, so this is what you're getting haha! He had some stuff he wanted to work through and get off his chest haha! I promise that next chapter will resolve the cliffhanger from chapter twenty-eight though, so please hang in there. 
> 
> Oh, and I've been messing with game mods recently, and made a few pictures to go with this chapter, if you wanna check them out [you can find them here, on the fic's Tumblr page](http://milliondollarmangta.tumblr.com/post/159919310970/michael-contemplates-his-choices-while-cassidy). 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! xoxox

Michael felt almost euphoric on waking to distant ocean sounds and the feel of a cool sea breeze blowing in from the patio door, brushing delicately over his bare arm and shoulders, like the most gentle wakeup call he'd ever felt. Yet as he stirred there was no pleasurable sense of detachment between his body and mind, no brief moment of nothingness. He'd woken too many times in strange beds over the years to hold onto the part of him that could luxuriate in the nothingness that came for most people on their moment of waking. 

As soon as his mind lifted out of unconsciousness he knew exactly where he was, and how he'd got there, but his feelings about everything from the night before remained dormant as familiar morning aches in his joints took his only focus. 

He groaned softly, nuzzling into the pillow and breathing in the smell of Cassidy's hair besides him as he struggled with the idea of admitting defeat to his weary body. The bed was incredibly comfortable, and the warmth of her back pressed against his chest was the most soothing thing he'd felt in years, but every morning his body cried out with the need to move. Stiff muscles and weary joints cried out with a hunger for the warmth of movement that would help ease the discomfort that had settled in during rest. 

"I'm sorry, baby." he whispered almost silently, afraid to wake her, as he carefully pulled himself away and turned over. Holding his breath as if it would somehow stop the bed creaking and alerting her to his departure. 

He felt a twist of anger at himself for needing to get up, for how his aging body was failing him and destroying the version of that morning he'd planned out in his head during lonely nights at home. However he knew if he stayed put he'd start fidgeting and he didn't want to risk waking her too early. After all the emotion of the night before he guessed she needed to rest and recharge. More selfishly though, he wasn't ready to let go the hope that the morning held, knowing if she woke to look upon him unfavourably the dream he was living would be broken. 

Despite his desire to linger besides her, Michael set about quietly finding his boxers and jeans, tugging them on in silence but keeping his eyes focused on the bed. Watching closely for changes in Cassidy's position or breathing, fearing the slightest noise would disturb her peaceful sleep and bring an abrupt end to a morning that he felt held so much hope. 

He picked up his t-shirt and boots, as a deep seated instinct encouraged him to move towards exiting through the bedroom door, but he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder at Cassidy worriedly. He felt an unfamiliar coldness in his stomach at the idea of her waking alone, but he didn't want to hang around in her bedroom watching her sleep like some kind of creeper, and there were things he needed to do. 

He'd made a mess of her home in his fit of rage and he had to make an attempt to fix it before he could let her be reminded of what an asshole he truly was. Knowing it would be better for him if she didn't wake up to find any extra reasons to send him on his way. 

He quietly padded out into the hallway and followed the trail of warm sunshine over to the staircase, tentatively making plans in his head about what could be done to un-fuck her living room wall. Wondering if he was quick with a patch-up job, he could fit in a cigarette too and perhaps make it back into bed besides her before she woke, if his aches settled fast enough. 

His worn knees groaned themselves awake as he descended the stairs one by one, pausing on the bottom step as his eyes found the view at the far end of her house. The wall of glass showcased the sparkling ocean outside perfectly; shimmering waters contrasting against the hazy powder blue sky. 

Something about the sight warmed him inside and he took in a deep breath that almost bordered on a yawn, but his brief moment of joy broke abruptly with the uncomfortable way the his tense muscles pulled across his back. 

Irritated, he stretched his neck, and didn't like the click he heard or the way his shoulder popped with it. He blew out a heavy sigh, hating the affects of age and how his body and mind seemed to be separating further from one another each day. 

In his head, he was still the eighteen year old quarterback, who could run and tumble for hours on end and never tire. A physical force to be reckoned with. A kid who never got tired or felt a twinge of pain the morning after the big game. 

Even at forty-eight, he was still capable of running from the law for as long as it took to escape. He was still strong, and even energetic when the mood took him. He was bold enough to still consider himself to be in decent shape, especially given the way he'd spent ten years doing little or nothing, but he could never avoid being reminded of just how different his body was the morning after physical challenge. That was when he felt things the worst, when all the running and fighting took its toll. Making him suffer for the following day at best, or the whole of the next week at worst. 

It was only then that he remembered it had only been a matter of hours since his last job and escape from capture. Despite the renewed aches, the intermittent stinging from the bullet graze on his arm and the growing soreness in his elbow from automatic gunfire - it all seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Stealing diamonds in a hail of gunfire played out in his head like a dream he had rather than a reality he'd actually lived through. Snippets of action flashing across his eyes as he recalled what went down, the rush of the take, following by the unrivalled excitement of the escape. 

"Shit! Diamonds!" he hissed out, suddenly remembering that several million dollars worth of gemstones had been left to wait outside on the staircase all night, while he lost himself in Cassidy. 

He dropped his t-shirt and boots at the foot of the stairs and quickly hurried through the kitchen, into the living room and out of the front door. Practically jumping through it onto the landing outside and into the wave of relief that instantly hit him to see that everything was there just how he left it. 

His body visibly relaxed, but he set about quickly grabbing up his things and bought them back upstairs into her house. Knowing he'd feel much safer with his ill-gotten gains stashed somewhere safely inside.

With his mind in defence mode, he made a point to lock the interior door behind him, and headed over to the seating area. Stopping for a moment to drape his jacket and bloodied shirt over the couch before popping the dufflebag up on the table. Quickly unzipping it to check everything was as he'd left it, pawing through small clear bags filled with stones until he was satisfied everything was okay. 

Eager to stash it somewhere safe, he zipped the bag but yanked it up too fast and sent a short pile of magazines and papers flying off the table onto the floor. "Aw fuck it!" he groaned. Tossing the dufflebag onto the couch and crouching down to gather things up, blindly scooping them into a pile when he noticed three or four curious scraps of torn paper lying amongst the mess. 

He frowned to himself, letting curiosity get the better of him as he tucked the magazines safely under the table then began gathering up the pieces on the floor, spotting matching ones on the table and gathering them all together in a small pile. 

He pulled himself up to sit on the couch with a groan and cleared a space on the surface in front of him, unfolding the strips of paper from the pile, and one by one to piecing together a puzzle that revealed a destroyed cheque. 

_His cheque!_

The one he'd written out for Cassidy almost two weeks earlier. The one he'd been watching his bank account waiting for her to cash, hoping it would show him there was still some kind of connection between them. 

It was in at least twelve small pieces, so there was no mistake that it had been intentionally destroyed. He wondered if she'd ripped it up in anger, but guessed it made sense that she had. He didn't know many people who could consciously afford to throw away such a large sum of money, even those that could - wouldn't. 

It seemed apparent she didn't want to take his payment that had come in the form of peace offering and it confused him. He couldn't remember the last time someone rejected his offer of money, and it felt wrong that she didn't want to accept her fee for treating him. All those hours she'd sat and listened to him rant about his life in a bid to understand himself, and it seemed that she didn't want a dime for her troubles. It made no sense to him. 

As he scanned the pieces in front of him he felt a mixture of emotions rolling through his gut. There was some vague sense of anger at her for being too stubborn to take payment from him; an anger that was rooted in worry for her making ends meet. Then, rapidly rising above everything, was the strangest sense of positivity. 

He recalled how she went at him the night before when he offered to take care of her financially, and how at the time he hadn't been sure if the offense she took to the suggestion was genuine, but now he knew it had to be. After so many years of knowing his only value to those he cared about was his bank account, seeing the torn up cheque that suggested differently was surreal. 

Everyone in his life had always wanted something from him, and he was comfortable with that. He knew where he stood when he had something to offer, he liked having a purpose, even if it was just a financial one but now, with Cassidy, he was confused. He wasn't sure how he existed outside of a financial incentive. 

His troubled mind began to wonder what exactly his appeal could be to her if it wasn't monetary; why had she entertained him if it wasn't for a financial gain? It didn't seem like he had much to offer if she truly didn't care for the weight of his wallet. 

For years, deep down, he'd secretly wanted to feel like he had value to someone beyond his bank balance or his skills as a crook. Throughout his life he'd quietly longed to be with someone who was independent -self-sufficient- someone who wouldn't let money corrupt their bond. Now he was looking at that as a real possibility, he didn't know what to think or how to feel. 

He sat for a few moments, silently staring at the scraps of paper. His mind in a stunned silence as he tried to add up what it could all mean to him and their shot at a future beyond their first night together. 

The idea that someone could he care about him for more than what they stood to gain seemed so utterly bizarre. His head felt funny at the very concept, like he was back in high school math class trying to understand complex equations. He didn't like where his head was going, and in a bid to avoid tumbling down into a well of strange emotions and unravelling thoughts that he didn't want to face, he refocused his attention. 

He set his mind back on what he'd been doing before he'd knocked over the papers, and quickly got to his feet. Pushing back the gathering emotions within him, and setting about sliding the dufflebag underneath the couch and adjusting his jacket to hang just so, making sure it couldn't be seen by anyone, especially Cassidy. 

Given the circumstances he couldn't be sure if the sight of it would trigger a bad reaction in the harsh light of day and he didn't want anything to threaten the sense of burning hope that had ignited his chest. 

The thought of upsetting her bought his mind back around the damage in the wall, and he turned to look at the fireplace. A hole the size of a cantaloupe sat just off center above the mantelpiece, that was dusted with broken plaster. Just the sight of it made him feel like such an asshole. He hated how he'd lost control in front of her, but she'd said things to him that really hit a nerve, yet still he knew they were things that he needed to hear. After all, he'd gone to her looking for honesty and she'd given it to him in spades. 

"A'right. C'mon you fat old fuck, you gotta make this right." he told himself aloud, then set to work finding the things he'd need to undo the damage he'd done. If nothing else, having a task to focus on would stop him over-thinking and second guessing what was to come of that morning. 

First, he checked under the sink in the kitchen and found some garbage bags and cleaning cloths that would be good enough to clear up the debris, but his rummaging through the kitchen cupboards revealed no tools or equipment to make a start on repairing the wall. 

It looked as though she wasn't going to make it easy for him to fix the damage he'd done, and he thought for a moment, considering a trip to the hardware store just up the road. He felt like he could make it there and back before she woke up, but he didn't want to risk it leaving her to come down to an empty house. 

He also knew he couldn't take the diamonds with him on a run to the store, and leaving them there under the couch held its own risk, as there seemed to be no guarantees she'd let him back in if he chose to walk out. 

Feeling strangely anxious about doing the best he could, he unlocked the interior door and ducked back out of her house again. Heading down stairs to the door off the small foyer, that he'd spent part of the previous evening staring at in silence from his perch on the staircase. 

He found the door unlocked and quickly stepped inside to a dark empty garage. Smelling dust and old engine grease, he fumbled blindly along the nearest wall, seeking out and turning on the light switch. 

A dim bulb in the center of the ceiling flickered on and gave just enough light for him to see there wasn't much to be found. Squinting in the half-light, he could see there was a washer, a dryer and a slop sink besides him, then a stack of boxes that she'd half unpacked on the far side of the garage. 

He was about to consider rummaging through them, when he noticed a metal shelving unit right at the back in the shadows, with a few cans of old paint standing out against the darkness and what appeared to be a dusty red tool box. 

Careful to dodge the patches of old dried oil on the floor, Michael padded barefoot across the garage and took a quick look through the toolbox contents. There wasn't much, but it'd was enough to cut away the broken dry wall properly to make way for a patch up job. 

"This'll do." he told himself, grabbing what he needed and heading back up to the main floor of the house, eager to get to work. 

It had been a ridiculously long time since he'd reached for a toolbox. Since moving to Los Santos he found himself paying someone to take care of his every problem. Yet back in the Midwest he had intended to be the type of guy who owned and used a toolbox full of every bit of kit imaginable. The type that tinkered around in garage on weekends after wasting hours tending his own garden, but the novelty of home maintenance had worn off so fast. 

Having manual tasks to do and a lush lawn to cut for twelve months of the year wasn't as enjoyable as he'd imagined, while trying to get to sleep during freezing cold nights spent in the Townley family's doublewide trailer. _Hell_ , it was barely a matter of weeks into their lives in Los Santos before he found himself calling around in search of a gardener and handy man. 

With his own father failing him so badly, Michael had grown up picturing himself being a better dad. He'd never been sold on the idea of having kids, but he knew all along he wanted to be the type of man who built a treehouse for offspring. A dad would drop everything to repair a broken rollerskate or replace a flat bicycle tire, but just like his own father, his work had always pulled him away from those little things back in the Midwest. The, by the time work was no longer a hindrance in his pursuit of his dreams, his children were too big for tree-houses and too distracted by technology to ride bikes or entertain his picket fence ideals. 

He had held such high hopes for their new life in Los Santos, firmly believing he'd get a shot at being the man he'd planned to be, but his goals seemed harder to achieve as the months passed. Yet still he'd held on to silly dreams, like buying an old junker and learning how to fix it up with Jimmy at his side. Imagining spending weekend putting life back into the empty shell just in time for his son to get his driver's permit, but of course that day had been and passed in the blink of an eye and none of his plans had lived to see fruition. 

His idealistic dreams had fallen by the wayside as things more interesting than himself pulled his family and domestic dreams away from him, further and further with each passing day, until he could barely touch them with extended fingers. 

He knew it was partially his fault; he'd given up on it all too easily. He'd lost interest in trying when it became too hard to push back against the tides that pulled his family out to sea. His silly wholesome plans couldn't compete with action packed videogames or blowing wads of cash at the mall, and somewhere along the line it had become far easier to be lazy and complacent than to try only to fail to get his families attention. 

It was so simple to let the money in his pocket win his battles for him, while he lost himself in old movies, drowning himself in bottles of whiskey as his depression grew and grew. He knew he was the only one to blame for allowing a greater distance to grow between him and his dreams for a picture perfect life for his family, but before he realized what was happening things were too far gone. 

With a heaviness in his heart, he set about marking off the area of the living room wall that he needed to cut away with a pencil and straight ruler, and let his mind fade out backwards to the days of his youth. Days when he took construction gigs here or there to line his pockets before big time crime came calling. 

Then again in the midst of his criminal prime, when his family expanded, he'd found himself going back to construction jobs between scores. Earning a little something to keep topping up their income and giving Amanda a decent story to explain his continual long absences throughout the year. 

Days and nights spent working out in the cold on draughty old buildings and half erected new build homes. His back against a freezing wind as his numb fingers hammered and sawed under the watchful eyes of tyrannical foremen. 

He hadn't ever been able to see a job through to completion though, he got too bored or frustrated with taking orders. He couldn't stand working so hard for so little pay, not when he'd tasted how easy it was to earn big bucks if he took a little risk. 

As he cleared away the crumbling pieces of drywall he could almost feel the chill of the Midwestern winds at his back, reminding him of how far he'd come and how badly he'd failed at achieving any of his sundrenched dreams. 

He'd screwed up everything royally, and had ran from that truth for as long as he could. For years he'd tried to smooth fresh plaster over the cracks that showed in his life. Painting over the patches of mould that had grown in, but it always came back. Bleeding through the paintwork and tainting things all over again. 

He'd been locked in a perpetual cycle of doing patch up jobs on his life, hoping it would be enough to get by. Trying just to hold things together no matter how bad the damage was, but in recently months he'd grown to feel like he couldn't do it anymore. He was tired of trying and failing and it seemed like the time was coming to knock down everything he knew, and build something better in its place. 

As a familiar sense of gloom for all his failings beginning to linger over him, Michael downed tools and headed back over to where he'd laid his jacket on the couch. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the inner pocket and took one out along with the lighter then made his way over to the patio doors. Sliding it open silently, and giving himself just enough space to slip out onto the terrace that overlooked the ocean. 

He breathed in the fresh air deeply, as he took in the magnificent view, instantly feeling its healing qualities sweep away the dark thoughts of his past. Looking at the ocean always had a magical way of reminding him just how far he'd come, in both physical distance and in his journey through life. It seemed to calm him, put things into perspective and remind him that things would never be as bad as they once were in the Midwest, as long as he had the ocean to look at. 

From the right angle, the terrace almost looked as if it was part of a boat parked in the middle of the ocean and just standing there lifted his spirits. The sound of the waves gently lapping at the shore and the seagulls squawking overhead blew his old worries from his mind and let him bring the present back into focus. 

Stepping up to the yellow railings, Michael lit his cigarette and inhaled. The wispy cloud in the skies above parted, allowing the warm sun to press against his back. Soothing his tired body and reenergizing him as he looked up and down the shoreline. Watching a lone jogger with a dog pass by on the sand below, following their path up the beach to where a yacht was bobbing on the ocean near Chumash pier. He couldn't help but wonder for a moment if it was the one he'd lost months earlier. 

He missed that boat! 

Yet he wasn't sure why. Five years of sailing lessons and he could count on one hand the amount of times he'd left the marina without an instructor by his side. It was a waste of money, he'd known it as soon as he'd signed the paper work. He still couldn't understand why he'd blown so much cash on it, as a part of him always knew that he wasn't capable of holding on to anything good for very long. 

It really should have been no surprise to lose it, but it still hurt to know it was gone. Out there somewhere, being enjoyed by someone else. Treated better than he treated it, used for its purpose rather than the ornamental value he gave it. 

He dreamily considered buying another one, realizing now just how perfect it would be to get away on the water with Cassidy at his side. There were so many places they could go nearby, coves and private beaches he'd heard of around the coast. Places they could run to and hide; be alone together. Places he could forget himself and all the baggage he was carrying. 

He quietly scoffed at himself, realizing that it seemed crazy to be making plans like that already, but he couldn't help himself. He'd lived so long in his head, under a black cloud, now that the sun was breaking through he couldn't resist letting the seeds of hope sprout into dreams he hoped to really achieve this time. 

The weak sound of the sensible side of his psyche warned that he shouldn't get too carried away; it was early days. It was foolish to assume Cassidy would want something more than just one night, no matter how badly he wanted their time together to continue. There were no guarantees on where she would stand in the harsh light of day, and even if she wanted the same things as he did, he still wasn't certain how to break away from his family, or even if he really could. 

However, the sense of optimism that always seemed to linger somewhere deep within -no matter how bad things got- told him that things would work out if he did his best. If he avoided making the same mistakes this time around and didn't let his standards slip. If resisted letting himself get bored and refused to give up; if he really worked at it then maybe he'd find his happily ever after this time.

Pessimism made him shake his head at how idealistic he was being again, but one night with her had changed so much for him. In her company he had felt things he never imagined he could and it filled his head with so many ideas for the future, hopes and dreams that her touch and trust had caused to bloom within him. Awakening a the part of himself that he kept repressed in the dark for so long; as if she was the springtime that had finally arrived to mark the end of his eternal winter. 

Since they first met, she'd made him feel so many different things that grew and grew the more time they'd spent together. Her presence in his life seemed to help him unlock parts of himself that he felt he'd sealed away forever. After living through year upon year of burying his head to avoid emotion, it scared him to feel as much as he did with her and for her. He didn't know where it was all coming from, or how he was capable of waking from a dormant state after so many years, and the truth was it scared and excited him in equal measure. 

He knew he wasn't good at handling his emotions, even the good ones. He'd never been great channelling his feelings correctly, but he felt that she could help him learn to understand and express himself in the ways he'd always wanted to. There was something about her that promised she held the key to unlock everything he'd secured away over the years, in his attempts at self preservation. 

Yet he was worried he didn't have what it took to change for the better now. It had been his habit of a lifetime to let people down and only allow himself to himself feel surface emotions. Bottling things up until they exploded, or ignoring things until they turned malignant. Running from his problems and dodging his feelings no matter their nature. He wasn't sure he could maintain over the distance, despite his enthusiastic start. He'd so often started something only to burn out miles before the finish line. 

He'd lost interest in more things than he could count, but his feelings for her were so strong inside his chest. A familiar yearning like the one he held for his life of crime; a desire that had endured for so many years. It all seemed to tell him that if he tried to resist falling into lazy habits and letting his worst sides get the better of him, then this time wouldn't be like all the others. That this was the chance he'd been waiting for. 

Of course the pessimistic side of himself warned that his efforts might not be rewarded. There were no guarantees of anything, but he knew only that one thing for certain - but he desperately wanted to try being a different man. _A better man._ The person he was deep down inside under all his bullshit and failures; the one she'd help him free. 

He'd lived in emptiness and isolation for years, surrounded by the superficial, and he was ready to move on to something real and full. It felt like he was on the verge of a new opportunity, just as the first time he'd met Solomon had. Everything that had happened told him he was looking at a real chance to better himself and the life he lead. 

It wouldn't be perfect of course; he could tell from their sessions together and their fight the night before it seemed obvious they'd lock horns at some point, but a tingling ball of enthusiasm at his core told him that there was something special between them that would help them cruise over any potholes that appeared in the road once they started their journey together. Something about the way she never let him dodge responsibility told him they'd work through their problems together, and that there'd be no room there for painting over cracks.

He couldn't imagine Cassidy letting a problem fester for long without tackling it head on. Something about her said there'd be no passive-aggressiveness, no underhand ways of getting at one another. If there was a problem they needed to address, she'd rip it out and slap it on the table where they could both work at solving it. 

She had a way about her that mesmerized him. They seemed to understand and relate one another in ways he hadn't thought possible with a woman before. He'd always felt like she appreciated where he came from, identified with to his struggles and challenges and hearing her truth had proven that to him. 

The tenderness and strength he saw she'd maintained despite all life had thrown at her, told him she could be the one to help him make sense of himself and his life too. That even thought she was so much younger, she was so much wiser. She'd achieved the balance and control that he'd dreamt of, and he wanted her magic to rub off on him. 

Unexpectedly, his positivity broke on an empty chuckle - he was being foolish to think one night meant a future. He couldn't even manage to stay next to her in bed, how could he ever imagine he'd have it in him to overcome the torrents of bullshit he'd have to wade through in order to clear the way for a fresh start?

His proud shoulders dropped with a sigh. The duality of his mind loved to take every opportunity to start another internal war inside him, and as the sun warmed his joints, logic began to make him feel anxious. 

It seemed laughable to note how quickly he'd tossed the ongoing idea of repairing his family and he hated himself for considering giving up, but he was drained. He didn't have anything left to give in the fight to hold his life together. In ever battle someone had to admit defeat and he felt that the time had come. 

Yet all hope of a new beginning was pinned to a woman who could well wake up hating him. The movie-perfect morning he saw playing out in his head could all be just another dream if she woke to realize she'd made a mistake by letting him into her bed. 

He had no way of knowing where she would stand when she woke. He knew the best changes were that she wouldn't want him even half as much as he wanted her. Why would she? She'd made a great life for herself away from the type of bullshit he couldn't seem to shake. She had a nice home, a career, a bright future that didn't need to be overshadowed by some aging lump who had nothing to offer her, not even his money.

Yet her words from that night began to echo around his head, _'I feel everything for you, Michael. And that's the fucking problem!'_ What was _'everything'_ exactly? Was it everything good, or everything bad? _Both?_ Was it the everything he felt for her? He couldn't be sure, and the doubt seized an opportunity to take root. 

A thought of leaving skittered through his mind, reminding him of how much easier it would be to walk away and just keep dreaming the impossible dream. Waste his time imagining what could have been rather than sticking around to face the reality of a rejection, but he couldn't do that. Even if she didn't want him, he had to see things through. He didn't want to leave her wondering what had happened, and asking if she'd done something wrong. He knew how much those kind of questions hurt, and he had to stay and face whatever was coming for him. 

He told himself his energies were better spent on righting the wrongs of the night before than second guessing her feelings for him. Hoping that maybe she'd forgive any hostility she still held for him if she saw he was trying to make things right. 

Deciding to leave his worries and over-thinking out on the terrace, Michael finished his cigarette and headed back into the house. There would be time enough to fall back into the familiar sense of drowning in his own head if the morning didn't go as planned. He had to focus on doing his best to put right what he could to show her how badly he wanted to make an effort for her. Hoping that when she woke to find he was still there, and fixing what he'd broken, that she wouldn't be filled with the urge to toss him out on his ear in the way he felt he surely deserved. 

With a new sense of determination that he hoped wasn't wasted, he set to work again. Using a paint spotted Stanley knife to continue cutting away the broken pieces of wall, squaring it off neatly ready to be repaired. Letting his mind wander back to the night before, finding distraction from his deeper feelings in replaying the intimate visions he'd captured in his mind's eye. 

It was so easy to lose himself in recalling just how magical it felt to be touched by someone who actually wanted him, and how good it felt to finally touch the one he wanted so badly, but before he slipped too deeply into his pleasurable memories that kept out the worries he held, there was a creak on the staircase. 

A sound that warned his moment of truth was finally upon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. As always I'd love to know what you think and if you're excited to see how things pan out once these two come face to face again.


	30. Coffee In The Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I owe you all yet another apology for taking so long with this update. Real life apparently doesn't like me finding time to write/edit these days, and it keeps on kicking my ass into doing responsibility related stuff and not the things I'd rather be doing haha! 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for the love you showed me on the last chapter - every word of support from you guys means the world to me. This chapter is my favourite of the one's I've published so far, and I do hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Sorry to have kept you all waiting so long, I hope this will have been worth the wait. :o)

  
_"I wish I could paint our love,_  
_These moments in vibrant hues._

_Wordplay, turns in to gun play,_  
_And gun play turns into pillow talk,_  
_And pillow talk turns into sweet dreams,_  
_Sweet dreams turns into fucking in the morning._

_I don't wanna wake you,_  
_I just wanna watch you sleep._  
_It's the smell of your hair,_  
_And it's the way that we fit,_  
_I've never felt comfortable like this...._

_Old souls we found a new religion,_  
_Now I'm swimming in that sin, that's a baptism."_

**\--[Coffee (Fucking) In The Morning by Miguel (Feat Wale)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-7nzDmC9fY)**

The static in Cassidy's mind had relented just enough to allow her to reach the landing in the middle of the staircase safely, before she sensed something was off with the equilibrium of her home. There was a presence downstairs that seemed to fill her house with a warm energy; one that was unfamiliar and recognizable all at once. A presence that made her skin prickle with electricity, which in turn lifted her mind lifted out from under the low hanging clouds of anxiety and sent her eyes casting out across the downstairs living areas.

Instantly she found him. Standing there in her living room, at the opposite end of the open plan house. Dressed in only his jeans, scratching the back of his head in strained thought as he starred at the hole above her fireplace, which now looked much bigger, and squarer than she recalled from the night before. 

Frozen to the spot, Cassidy's body became awash with a cocktail of emotions. Her eyes running all over him; sexy as ever standing shirtless and barefoot, with the muted morning sunlight accentuating the contours of his strong torso and arms. He looked so at home, like he'd been living there longer than she had. 

Her mind began to race with dozens of questions that she couldn't answer alone. _Why had he stayed? What was he doing? What did he think was going to happen if he stuck around?_ She didn't know how to start unravelling the twisted mess of emotions that weighted heavily in her stomach but she felt the strangest sensation of warmth in her chest as she watched him from across the room. 

From her vantage point in the middle of the stairs she could clearly see he was making more of a mess than he was fixing. The mantel piece was covered in dust and debris, scattered all around were tools and equipment, more than it seemed he needed or knew what to do with, and a lot of which she didn't recognize. It didn't look like he knew what he was doing very well, but he was trying, and he was still there. 

_He hadn't left her._

Michael sensed eyes on him and turned to face her, his expression indescribably for a beat before warming into a contented smile that showed all the hope he held inside for that morning. Even from across the room he could see how beautiful she looked. Sleepy eyed under a nest of thick dark hair, biting her lip nervously and fidgeting a little on the landing at the midpoint of the staircase. 

It had been years since he'd stuck around long enough to do 'the morning after' thing, so he felt the nerves too. He couldn't be sure he still knew how to be romantic and affectionate, if he'd ever known how in the first place. He felt like he might struggle to provide what a morning such as that would require. 

As he'd worked on the wall he had worried about how to handle things in the harsh light of day; concerned she'd want him gone once she came to her senses about falling into bed with a fat old fuck like him. He'd almost talked himself out of staying, unsure if she'd really want him there, or if he should even dare to stick around given the situation and the consequences.

He'd resisted dressing properly for fear it might encourage his guilt and the flight instinct to run back home. Yet something had made him hold fast, knowing that deep inside he couldn't bare the idea of walking away. There wasn't a single part of him that felt ready to let go of what he'd found with her. He couldn't bring himself to loose go of the fragile sapling of a relationship that had grown between them in the darkness. He wanted more of what he'd touched on with her the night before, and the way his body tingled at the sight of her soothed him and allowed for a pocket of confidence to release into his bloodstream. Pushing him into doing his best to try to be the type of man she'd want to keep around. 

"Mornin' gorgeous." he charmed, firmly pushing back his own anxieties as he put down the knife he'd been using to cut away the ragged edges of the hole in the dry wall. Readying all his confidence and charm as he wiped his dusty hands on a rag he'd had tucked into his belt, before making an eager start across the living room towards her. 

Feeling as if her whole body had been welded to the spot by the mix of panicked and excited heat that was raging through her, Cassidy froze. She hadn't realized how well she'd accepted not seeing him again and the way her emotions rocked back and forth as he strode over to her almost made her dizzy.

Still as handsome as the devil himself; the stubble covering his jaw looked darker than the night before and something about him seemed bolder too. Like he was completely comfortable in her home and wasn't holding a doubt in his mind about why he'd stuck around. 

The sight of such decisive enthusiasm from him made everything she'd thought and felt moments earlier seem redundant, which in turn only made her more confused about herself and where she stood on the twisted path of right and wrong. 

"I thought you were gone." she blurted out, her mind working too hard to clarify the reality of the situation to properly control her mouth. 

Michael frowned, stopping at the midway point where the living room and kitchen area merged. One bare foot on the wooden floor that had been warmed by the morning sun and the other paused mid-step on the cold kitchen linoleum as a sense of worry passed through his stomach, changing his hopeful expression grey. 

She didn't look as impressed as he'd hoped she might. There was no sparkling smile or rush of joyous affection that the morning-after in movies had always promised him. She just stared blankly, in shock and confusion, maybe even in fear, he couldn't be sure. 

"D'you want me to be here?" he asked cautiously, feeling the pull of her front door whispering insistent demands for him to turn and run. 

She didn't answer immediately, she was trying too hard to filter through the muddied emotional waters within her and every second of hesitation felt like a needle in Michael's heart. He opened his mouth to speak again but before a word that begged for clarification could escape, she began slowly nodding her head. 

"Yes." she whispered, uncertain of herself or what she truly felt for a moment, as she looked over at him once more, but the insecurity that she saw in his eyes broke her resistance in a heartbeat, and on impulse she confessed. "I'm glad you're still here." 

Michael's eyes lit up, a swell of warmth filling his chest to the brim, making him stand a little taller - _prouder_. Popping all the bubbles of doubt that had begun to inflate inside him. "Alrighty then." he beamed, setting off again to meet her near the foot of the stairs as she took the final few steps down to join him on the cool kitchen floor. 

With their bodies coming close again, she almost looked too nervous to meet his eyes. Avoiding his gaze or a moment, as if she was afraid of what might happen next and if she dared try to touch him now that the daylight and sobriety made it so much easier to see mistakes. 

Luckily Michael wasn't unsure; not in the slightest. With the chance she'd given him, he knew exactly how he wanted that morning to play out. He'd been plotting different versions of it in his head for so long, and if she needed reassurance about where he stood - he was more than happy to give it to her. 

Coming to stand a few inches apart at the foot of the stairs, he reached out his hand and cupped her cheek, bringing his head into hers and kissing her softly on the lips. She responded instinctively, all the emotions she'd tried to hold back pushed forward, encouraging her to lose herself in him and his magical touch once again. 

Her hand settled gently on his bare shoulder while he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her into him as he deepened the kiss. The heat of her body against his sent tingles straight to his center. Anesthetising his mind and making him forget about everything he wanted to say to her and all conscious thought. His worries melting away as he delighted in her touch. 

After kissing for a moment or two they mutually parted their lips, wanting to check one another eyes for a clue of where their minds were at, but Michael had no linear thoughts inside his head. He was just running with what he felt as it came to him, and he didn't want to be stopped. Knowing it was likely that if he hesitated and thought for too long he'd sabotage himself. 

He smiled at her softly, raising his hand and touching a loose ringlet of dark hair that fell across her face. "Where'd all this hair come from?" he asked. 

Cassidy shrugged slightly. "I wake up looking like a Labradoodle if I go to sleep with it wet." she told shyly, and Michael chuckled as she dipped her head and bought up her hands to gather her curly hair back, wishing for an elastic to tie it in place. 

"Don't." he insisted, amusement falling away from him as he reached out to touch her wrist her wrist. "I like it down." 

She felt foolish for the way her cheeks heated up at his words, but she loosened her hands on the hair she'd gathered and let it fall back down around her face. Avoiding meeting his gaze for a moment, afraid to properly acknowledge all the excitement that glowed in his eyes, knowing it was likely mirrored so clearly in her own. 

She felt so awkward, bordering on shy but it was obvious he found it endearing. A stark contrast to the person he'd seen her become the night before during their fight. It seemed difficult to compare the angry woman who'd pointed a gun at him with a dangerous fury in her eyes, with the girl he saw in front of him there and then. Nervous and uncertain of him, despite all they intimate things they'd said and done with one another merely hours earlier. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful." he told her bluntly, smiling inside at the way she coyly dipped her head, unable to hold his eyes as she wrestled with the compliment. 

He'd spent weeks picturing what she'd look like first thing in the morning. All those meetings in her office, with her straightened hair tied back neatly and her makeup perfectly painted on. It seemed surreal to finally see her looking so natural, and almost bordering on vulnerable. 

His instinct was to reassure her; to tell her it was okay, that everything was fine. Confess that he felt kind of strange about the situation too, but he couldn't find the right words and his inability to do so almost made him laugh. 

He'd out run some of the biggest police chases law enforcement had ever seen, and somehow he always found a way to calm and reassure the people in his crew. His back had been against the wall dozens of times -outnumbered and outgunned- but he'd always managed to keep outwardly optimistic and confident in every move he made, but with her he couldn't connect to that side of himself. She disarmed him in the most wonderful way, but he desperately wanted to find his old patter, knowing it might boost her confidence if he could insist that he wasn't about to run and that everything was going to be fine, but the right words wouldn't come. 

Inside he knew that the great struggle to find the kind of reassurance she needed was because he had such little confidence in matters of the heart. He was a master in his criminal endeavours, a terrific thief and self-assured leader but when it came to love and emotion there were too many elements at play. Too much to accurately predict or control the outcome to any degree, and it seemed as if the stakes were too high. Yet like with all the scores he'd taken, he knew what he wanted and he knew what needed to be done to insure that thee happiness he felt would continue. 

Cassidy struggle to avoid his gaze, uncomfortable with taking compliments and struggling to find a balance for the two of them. She glanced down at the floor for answers, but as her eyes lowered she caught sight of the small wound on his arm. The bandage she'd wrapped around it was missing, but the sticky strips still held in place. 

"How's your arm?" she asked, in part worried that he might still be in pain and also keen to divert attention from herself and the urge to fall head first into his charms again. 

"It's a'right. I'm a good healer." he told her confidently, and she gave a gentle relieved smile.

"I'm glad. If you need any more pain killers-" he stopped her. 

"I'm good." he insisted, sure that the orgasm induced endorphins that had flooded his blood twice were still doing a good job at holding off any residual discomfort. 

She looked up at him and fidgeted with uncertainty. Her head was swimming with the notion that he was still there. Frantically trying to wrap her understanding of his past behaviours around the fact he'd actually stayed to see things through with her. Especially after she'd so quickly convinced herself that she'd meant nothing to him. 

It troubled her to think how easily she had told herself that everything he'd said had been lies. It troubled her even more so to think of how everything Friedlander had written about the way he treated women had seemingly been mistaken too. It seemed like a hell of a task to rewire all the pessimistic concepts she'd convinced herself of over the weeks she'd known him, and especially those she'd accepted so quickly in her bedroom moments earlier. 

"I wish you'd woken me up." she told him honestly, knowing things could have been much different, and probably less awkward if they'd woken naked next to each other in bed. 

"I didn't wanna disturb you." he explained, having found it almost impossible to slip away from her but being driven by the need to make things right after their fight. "I thought I should try to fix your wall before you got up." he nodded over his shoulder in the direction of the living room. "Found some old tools in the garage." 

She smiled softly in surprise that he'd take such an initiative, it didn't seem at all like his style to try and repair the damage in his wake without being prompted. "I think they belong to my landlord." she told him, stuck for what else to say and not sure if she should thank him for undoing the damage he'd caused himself. 

The enamoured look he was giving her made her feel odd. Surprised that he still seemed so enthusiastic about her after getting what he ultimately wanted. The way he tightly he held her body against his suggested that he was both eager to explore their bond further while also afraid that she might reject him and try to run away. 

"I think I'm gonna need to get some stuff from the hardware store to do it properly," he continued. "....make sure you don't lose your security deposit. But I didn't want to be gone when you woke up." 

"You had me going for a minute." she whispered, ashamed of herself for writing him and the beginnings of their bond off so easily. 

"I'm sorry." he offered gently. "D'you want me to be here?" he asked again, his insecurities pushing at his back. Trying their best to pull his mind away from what he wanted and back to focusing on the doubt and guilt for what he'd done. Urging him to feel the uncertainty that came with placing all his chips on a weak hope of a second chance and a new start with her. 

Her eyes met his and she nodded; her mind firm and certain. "Yeah. Of course I do." 

"Good." he smiled proudly, excited by the hope such a simple reply gave him. "...'Cause I don't wanna hafta leave yet." 

The thought of walking away from the warmth and comfort of her house was too much. He couldn't stand to think about having to go back to reality and dragging himself back home to face the music with the family that held him in such deep contempt. 

So many times he parked his car across the street or in the driveway, head on the steering wheel, eyes closed and stomach churning. Trying so hard to convince himself to go inside his house and not put the car in gear and drive as far away as he could get. He wasn't ready to go from riding so high with her to falling back into those depths of negativity again at home. Already he wasn't sure how he could go back to that after what he'd sampled with her. 

Cassidy gave a soft coy smile; struggling to centre herself through the crazy haze of emotions that rampaged inside her. The idea that the fight they'd had and their night of raw emotion and passion could actually lead to something more seemed like too much to take in. She'd been so convinced he was only after one thing that she hadn't really considered what would happen if he actually wanted more, or how strange spending a morning with him would be. How alien the concept of having a person to care about in her life again was, and how complicated it would be to have him become that person. 

"I guess I should feed you then, huh?" she offered, stuck for another direction to move in. Needing a marker to aim for, hoping that having something to focus on would keep her grounded and prevent her from racing off too far into some wild fantasy of domestic bliss with another woman's husband. 

"That'd be good. I'm starvin'." he nodded enthusiastically, dipping his head ever so slightly to kiss her lips once, more before easing back a little, intending to let her move away if she wanted to, but only a beat passed before she bought her lips to his. Kissing him back softly, but insistently. 

Before either of them knew what was going on, one kiss became two, then three, then four and suddenly tongues were involved and he was backing her up against the wall under the stairs. Hands roaming over each other's bodies frantically as heat and tingles took them over. 

She moaned into his mouth as his hands slid under the hem of her tank top, the roughness of his palm sliding over her smooth skin sent a rush of need through her. Making her whole body being to swim with desire for him again, an urge to feel him inside her rapidly expanding to breaking point, but her practical mind clicked in out of nowhere. Shutting the moment down and making her break their kiss. 

"Easy, cowboy." she chuckled out, pressing on his shoulders to push him back a little bit, but he wasn't discouraged and made a move to kiss her neck instead. His needy hands caressing her slender body that squirmed softly against his solid frame. "You're not going to be any good to me if you haven't got any energy." she whispered, as his stubbled jaw scraped against the ticklish skin of her neck, making her eyes roll back in her head as her body tried to resist melting into his embrace. 

Not wanting to pass up another opportunity to be inside her, he growled low against the shell of her ear. "I can dig deep." 

The sensation and sound of his voice sent a wave of excitement through her, almost pulling her under a tide of lust, but she found a hidden strength to resist. "Well I can't. You don't want me passing out on you do you?" 

Michael chuckled again, finally pulling back a little to look into her eyes. "No. I'm not into the unconscious thing." he relented. 

"Well, put a pin in it and go do whatever you were doing, and I'll make breakfast." 

Michael smiled warmly, enjoying the fact that she was still bold enough to sass him despite her initial awkwardness. "Roger!" he nodded, kissing her lips once more before stepping back off her and allowing her to escape deeper into the kitchen. 

He lingered for a moment, watching her opening up the fridge to assess what could be made a decent breakfast, before he before he pulled himself away. Drifting back across the house to the wall he'd broken. Back to working on prepping the area over her fireplace to be patched and painted over later. 

Needing to keep himself focused on something other than how quickly he could take her clothes off again, he began mindlessly cutting away the remaining broken drywall he'd marked out. Brain only half on the job at hand, while his eyes flitted between the work he was doing and busily watching her pottering around the kitchen. Admiring her in her natural environment as she gathered a few items from the fridge before setting about turning the stove on and taking out a couple of pans from an overhead cupboard. 

Not only could he not remember last time he'd stuck around with someone long enough to see night turn into day, he couldn't remember the last time someone had actually cooked for him either. At least someone he wasn't paying to do so, but seeing such a thing delighted him inside. Being there with her felt so comfortably familiar, the atmosphere in her house warmed him like a good whiskey; an ambience that felt right beyond question. 

He had experienced something incredible with her in the darkness that he couldn't understand nor properly explain. It went against everything he knew of such encounters and knowing it had translated through into the morning damn near blew his mind. He didn't know how to explain anything that he was feeling, but he knew he wanted to do whatever it took to cling onto it for as long as he possibly could. 

The way she let him into her head, revealed her past - _trusted in him_ \- gave him a feeling of fullness inside that he couldn't properly put a name to. His chest lifted, as if he was proud to know she'd felt safe enough with him to speak her truth to him. Knowing she'd given him her trust seemed to feel perhaps even better than the physical release they'd enjoyed together. Although he was keen to repeat that part a few times, just to be sure.

His thoughts kept weakly trying to pull focus over to the sense of guilt he was working so hard to ignore, but he tapped back into his repertoire of skills for ignoring his conscience and refused to let it take grip. He'd spend too long feeling guilty about his actions, and for once he found no reason to truly feel remorseful. He wanted to enjoy the choices he'd made, and embrace them firmly with both arms. 

He and his wife both knew their love was dead, and had been for years, even though they'd fought to keep things together. A few months earlier he'd been so determined to make things right and commit to his marriage, but it wasn't meant to be, and deep down he'd known it all along. 

The vows he'd taken weren't meant to last through the bitter contempt that had come to poison his marriage. He'd run away from the domed truth for years, losing himself in one-time things in seedy motels, strip club back rooms and parking lots, while his wife had full blown affairs right under his nose. Cheating was cheating, there was no denying that, but it was all a symptom of he and his wife's search for the love and understanding that neither of them could ever provide for the other. 

They'd married too young, too early into their relationship, their bond overshadowed by the arrival of a baby. Too much too soon, which lead them to constantly consider what could have been. Leaving them searching for fulfilment outside of their marriage, that had given them nothing but an empty feeling for so many years. The emptiness had been filled by resentment and a desperate for change, but they were both too afraid of letting go of the familiar and falling away into the unknown of a fresh start.

There, in Cassidy's house, it felt as if the fresh start he wished for would have a soft landing. He already felt as if he'd finally found what had been missing for so long, and if the price was betraying his promise to be a better husband and father, he felt willing to pay up. He was sick of being locked in to unhappiness; punishing himself over and over again for honest mistakes. Forcing himself to live half a life devoid of love and filled with isolation. As if wallowing in self pity and beating himself up was some kind of punishment for all the wrongs he'd done in his life; a half-assed way of making amends for all he'd done and continued to do. 

However, for the first time in a long time, he had no regrets about anything he'd done since Cassidy walked into his life. He knew his actions were wrong, of course, but it didn't _feel_ wrong and that was what always made the difference for him. 

If guilt came on heavy later, then he'd be ready for it. He was more than familiar with burdening regrets after the fact, but there -in her house- locked away from the world in a perfect protective bubble, he felt that he was becoming impervious to the negativity that forever dogged him. 

The largest part of him felt that as long as he was with Cassidy, he could forget everything that hurt him outside in the real world. The way she had with him -through his sessions and their times together one-on-one off the clock- had showed him a glimpse of what he could have. A real understanding; a solid bond. Love and intimacy with friendship too; there didn't have to be choice between the things he craved. With her he felt he had a real shot at some true happiness that didn't have to be forced or propped up by empty promises with financial incentives, and he'd have to be dragged away from what she offered kicking and screaming before he'd ever leave voluntarily. 

Over in the kitchen, Cassidy was at war with herself. She knew what it was like to be cheated on, and it wasn't anything she'd ever want to put another woman through. She hated the idea of being a 'bit-on-the-side' but there she was. Acting like the picture of domesticity with a married man. Who she'd had sex with - _twice_ \- merely hours earlier. Now she was making breakfast for him with a thought in mind to repeat the nights activities, over and over again until she got sore or he burnt out - whichever happened first. 

However, something loud and proud inside her insisted that hating herself would have to wait. She liked the bubble they were in too much to allow the darkness to return and attempt to pop it. She had forever to beat herself up for what she'd done and how awful it all was. Now was the time to enjoy it -embrace the choices she'd made- and make all the remorse she knew she'd feel later count for something. 

An old Italian saying her maternal Grandmother used to say to from time to time her echoed through her head - ' _Since the house is on fire, I'll warm myself with the flames.'_ As a child she hadn't understood such a ridiculous concept, but in her late teens and early adult life she'd used it as more than just encouragement to make the best of a bad situation, the notion had been somewhat of a quiet justification for going on to commit further offences on the back of one. 

It was terrible she knew, but there was no denying the damage was already done and there wasn't much she could do to make things worse for herself or him now. Kicking him out wouldn't solve anything, and she told herself adamantly that she was best off making the most of it. It was time to enjoy all she could from his company before the sweetness turned sour. 

She could feel his eyes all over her as she set about preparing the coating for the French toast, before popping some bacon in a pan to sizzle steadily. She almost chuckled to herself, thinking back to when she'd first thumbed through his file, getting nervous at how horrible he sounded in Friedlander's notes. All those weeks ago she never would have imagined that one morning in the future she'd be making breakfast for him, after spending an incredible night together. 

Quite how they'd got there, she wasn't sure. She couldn't even attempt to understand how she'd been able to overlook all the warnings Friedlander had left for her, or how she'd opened up to Michael so freely and deeply. She knew she should be regretting every choice she made to lead her to that moment, certain somewhere deep inside that she needed to feel the horrible emotions that she'd awoken with again, but she couldn't get there. 

She should have been in full on meltdown mode over what she was doing and thinking, what she was allowing to go on, but she felt too good to let anything spoil it. His presence lifted her, she felt content and safe, and she desperately wanted to enjoy him while she had him. Then, maybe, she told herself, all the pain that would catch up to them eventually would be worth suffering through. 

It didn't take Michael long to wrap up what he was doing with the wall, and he wandered over into the kitchen to get a closer look at what Cassidy was up to. Enjoying the delicious smells that were slowly filling up her house and his heart. 

He crept up behind her, his eyes running over her slender body, enjoying the way her panties showed off the pert cheeks of her ass. It already felt like too long since he touched her, and without a hesitation or invitation he stepped in behind her as she stood attending to a piece of bread in a hot pan. 

Sliding his arms around her waist and pressing his chest against her back as he purred "smells good" into her ear.

Tingles ran through her at the sound of his raspy voice, aroused by the warmth of his strong chest flush against her shoulders, hands on her waist and the feeling of something slightly firm below his waist pressing against her butt. She nibbled her bottom lip, holding back at sly smile while he nuzzled at her neck lovingly. Showing her affection that she hadn't been certain he'd ever be capable of. 

"Glad to see you're not one of these gluten-free, vegan, whack jobs." he teased, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and a faintest hint of weed that lingered on her from the night before.

She snickered, unsurprised that he'd said such a thing. "Did I strike you as a gluten free, vegan, _whack job_?"

"Well, I was worried when you mentioned doin' yoga."

" _Pilates_. It's a bit different." she corrected gently. "And that reminds me! There's a yoga mat outside, you should show me your moves." she wiggled her shoulder back to nudge him and he laughed deep in his throat. Sending stirring vibrations through her already over-stimulated body. 

"The only yoga I wanna do right now, is the bedroom kind." he growled. 

Cassidy couldn't help but laugh at his corniness. Shooing away an urge to mention how sometimes every other word out of his mouth seemed to sound like a cheesy quote from a bad movie. She knew he was trying hard to be smooth, hoping to impress her and his hypnotizing touch gave her no reason to challenge him on it. 

The truth was, she liked his personality, every aspect of it that she'd seen so far. She liked that he was dark and complicated, moody and conflicted. That he had his perfectly rehearsed lines and bravado were put in place to deflect attention away from the fact deep down he had a soul that felt everything and a heart that longed to do right. 

She especially liked how underneath all the complex, contradictory sides of him, there seemed to be a great sense of humour and hunger for fun, and an increasingly visible ability to show the love and affection she craved to feel and give in return. 

Easily distracted by his urges, Michael brushed her thick hair out of the way and placed a warm wet kiss just behind her ear; the way her body responded and the faint moan she made caused his lips to curl into a devious smile. He didn't need any further encouragement from her, as he set about unleashing a full assault of kisses on her neck. Savouring every inch his lips touched as he worked his way down to her joint of her shoulder and back up, while she desperately tried to focus on cooking. 

As hungry as he was, his appetite for her was the fiercest of all. She'd woken up something he'd repressed for the longest time, and that particular beast within was not easily sated. Years of denying himself and so many of his desires had come to an end, and he couldn't wait rediscover the man he thought he'd lost so many years ago. 

He kissed her skin again and again, filling her with heat, as she struggled to keep focused on what she was doing over the stove. Feeling his hands begin to roam unreservedly; one slipping down her torso and over the fabric of her panties while the other roamed upwards and across her body to hold her against him as he caressed her breast through her thin tank top. 

She gave a strangled moan as the pressure of his touch intensified. Sucking on her bottom lip, then biting onto it in an attempt to stay grounded and resist melting into him completely. It felt incredible to be touched by him, after craving it for so long and getting a taste of how good it could be between them. 

"You want me to burn this." she gasped out, trying to deny herself as his hand found its way deep between her thighs. 

His only response was to purr deeply into her ear as he continued his attack. Pressing his hardening manhood into her butt as he lost himself in the taste of her sensitive neck. Her head tipped back to rest on his shoulder and she let go of her grip on the pan and spatula she was using, letting her hands move down to softly hold his arm and wrist. 

Widening her stance a little, she began rocking her hips against his hand that teased her, grinding hands him firmly, causing tingles and wetness to build rapidly between her legs. Encouraged along by the magical way he softly played with the nipple of the breast he had cupped firmly in his hand. 

She wanted to resist it, but she naturally lost herself in him and her soft mewing told him as much. Eager to please, he tucked a finger into her panties and slid it through her wetness. Rubbing her clit with a perfect amount of gentle but firm pressure. Teasing her gently as she pressing herself back against him insistently; aroused by how wet she already was for him and the way she eagerly gripped his arm. Keeping him steady as she wound her hips in the opposite direction of his touch. Her breathing becoming more and more ragged the firmer he rubbed. 

He felt his cock hardening against the fly of his jeans, eager to take her right there in the heat of the kitchen. On a counter or against one, he didn't much care, but the wicked deviant impulse to torture her, and himself, was too overwhelming. 

Suddenly he pulled his hands away from her body, planted one firm kiss on her shoulder, and spoke out into the impassioned silence. "Hurry up already. I'm starvin'!" he insisted coolly as he stepped off her. Giving her just enough space to spin around to face him, with a gasp that left her mouth wide open in shock. 

"You did _not_ just do that to me!" she cried, stuck half way between amusement at his apparently playfulness and angry frustration for working her up to nothing.

"What can I say? Told ya I'm an asshole." he joked cockily. 

With that, she grabbed a towel from the counter and slapped him on the arm with it as best she could. Completely forgetting that he was injured, until he cried out and grabbed at the wound. 

A blast of ice shot through her and her expression turned panicked, momentarily convinced she'd hurt him until her sight cleared and she noticed a glint in his eye that said he wasn't hurt at all. 

Through the relief she felt, she narrowed her eyes at him, mocking anger and he broke out into a cocky smirk that resonated deep in his soul. Showing her a playful side that he'd kept hidden from view, an ability to be the perfect match for the side of her that liked to tease and mess with people. 

"You're the worst. You know that?" she asked, her voice light as she stepped into him and kissing him on the lips, in part an apology for _almost_ hurting him. 

"You bring it outta me." 

" _ME?_ " she cried, stepping back from him again. "You're the one giving me blue bean over here." 

"What the fuck is blue bean?" Michael frowned but his tone remained jovial. 

"Guys get blue balls, girls get blue bean. It's a thing, it's in medical books. It's Latin name is _Clitorius-climaxtica-interuptus_." she said completely deadpan and for a moment Michael wasn't sure if she was joking. 

"You're fuckin' with me?" he frowned, wanting to laugh but uncertain if he'd look stupid if he did. 

She held her serious face for a moment but then gave in to a smile. "Of course!" 

Michael snickered at her and shook his head in amusement, deciding that he very much liked the version of Cassidy she was showing him then and there. "Well, you deserve it a case a'that." he teased. "It's payback." 

"For what?!" she exclaimed wide eyed. 

"Playin' hard to get for almost ten Goddamn weeks!" 

She scowled at him playfully again, and pointed with her spatula. "You're on thin ice mister." 

He held up his hands in defence as he chuckled deeply, loving the way she encouraged his mischievous side to rise out of its burial pit. He'd forgotten he was capable of being in such a good mood. All the troubles he'd seen over recent months had made him think it wasn't possible to tap back into the man he used to be before criminality and a life full of mistakes wore him down to a miserable depressive wreck. 

He reached out and grasped her by the hips, pulling her into him. Kissing her deeply without a hesitation, and she responded just as he hoped she would. Giving herself to him for a passionate moment or two, but this time, it was her turn to cut him off. She could smell something burning and broke the kiss. 

"Make yourself useful, okay?" she sassed, pushing him back a little, hoping to keep him keen, but the look on his face said she didn't need to hope. He was keen, maybe too keen, and she felt a rush of joy inside. "Stop distracting me with your sexiness and put some damn coffee on!" The way his eyes lit up at her words made her heart flutter, as her understanding of him and his life told her that he hadn't heard that term used to describe him in some time. 

To confirm she meant what she said, she kissed him once more and then turned on her heel to attempt salvaging what she could of a piece of blackening French toast that was becoming one with her best skillet. 

Michael beamed inside. _'Did she just say I was sexy?'_ he asked himself. Although it was obvious she had to be attracted to him to sleep with him in the first place, and despite his frequent self deprecation he considered himself a fairly handsome man, but to hear the word come directly from someone like her gave him an almighty high. 

He stepped back and watched as she went back to cooking, smiling contently to himself. He didn't need to be a smart man to know he'd have his hands full with her and he already knew he was going to love it. The light he felt inside his chest when they interacted was incredible; it felt as if nothing could darken his mood again. Like he'd found a guiding beacon he'd been searching for in years of darkness. 

The two of them tried hard to resist each other as they worked together to finish making something resembling a decent breakfast. Playfully squabbling over how much coffee to put into the machine to make the best cup, and stealing touches whenever they passed close enough to one another. A gentle caress of her lower back, a soft squeeze of his strong arm, or a flirty pat on her ass. Something about being close to one another, and free to go with whatever they felt was magical. 

She instructed him where to find mugs for the coffee, glasses for orange juice, syrup and plates for the food as he dutifully assisted, something he couldn't remember doing since childhood. The usual level of meal preparation he was familiar with consisted of pouring cereal into a bowl or dumping a wad of napkins on the table before a pizza box was popped open, but he tried his best. 

He hadn't ever been the type of man who helped out around the house, but he really wanted to change. Telling himself in a constant mantra that he needed to be a better man for her, and not let laziness or complacency ever get the better of him again. He didn't want to live in the way he had for so many years, his chance to be different had come. The determination to change was rapidly being fortified by the certainty that he'd need to work to maintain her interest in him, for he couldn't seem to understand why a beautiful young woman like her would ever want someone like him. 

He managed to set the small dining table ready just in time for her to hand him a plate full of delicious looking -if slightly over cooked- food. Then they both took their seats at the table, sitting opposite each other as a cool breeze from the ocean outside rolled in from the patio doors, removing the heat from cooking and settling the house. 

Michael didn't waste a second in pouring on some syrup and tucking in, letting out a satisfied moan as the home-cooked flavours pleasured his taste-buds. "This is so good!" he praised through a mouthful of food. 

Cassidy smiled softly at him, grateful that he thought so or at least cared enough to lie. She wasn't the greatest cook in the world but what she lacked in skill she made up with good intentions. She said a silent thank you for whoever had invented French toast and developed cured bacon. Since the bread she had in wasn't the freshest and thankfully the bacon had survived a couple of weeks at the back of her empty fridge due to its long shelf life. 

Her breakfasts usually considered of a half eaten bowl of cereal or an impulse purchased bran muffin from the Bean Machine on the ground floor of her office building, but it felt like he was worth making an effort for. The look on his face told her he appreciated every second of cooking time. 

Trying hard not to stare at the way he shovelled the food into his mouth, she began to eat her own, much more delicately than he did. He was practically inhaling it, like he hadn't eaten in days and it was a struggle for her not to chuckle at his enthusiasm. 

Unsurprisingly, he didn't have a moment to start a conversation as he worked on rapidly clearing his plate. Only stopping to remember his manners when he'd finished and sat back in his chair with a hand rested on his stomach and a satisfied look on his face. When his eyes found her, he noted the funny look she was wearing and he frowned. 

"Wha?" 

"You didn't come up for air once." she smiled. 

Michael gave a facial shrug, feeling no shame for the way he'd devoured the delicious food. "Well, I can't remember the last time I ate somethin' that wasn't cooked in a microwave, or made by someone makin' minimum wage." he told, picking up his coffee mug and taking a big gulp to wash everything down. 

She didn't like the reminder that he had a life outside of her house, or the way her mind wandered to his wife again. She had to steer the conversation away from the rocks up ahead, fearing the boat they were in might crash and tip them both out into the cold dark sea of reality. 

"You're lucky I didn't just hand you a cup of black coffee and a cigarette." she considered. 

"Breakfast of champions." Michael joked, liking the way she lightly snickered. 

She gave a soft sigh as she forked at a piece of bacon. "I'm not the greatest cook." 

"Well, if this is anythin' to go by, you're gonna have trouble gettin' rid a'me." 

Cassidy chuckled softly, almost shy in response to unfamiliar encouragement. The smirk he was wearing was something else. "I can live with that." 

"Good." he nodded with a loving smile as his chest began to swell again. Knowing he was actually wanted by someone - _someone like her_ \- felt amazing. For the first time in over twenty years, it felt like someone was genuinely as into him as he was into them. 

The continual stream of joy was making a giddy sensation build in his head, but something pulled him back down to earth, letting his thoughts stray out of his control for just a moment to bring a worry from the back of his mind forward. Something he had to mention before quickly before it ate a hole right through him. 

"I found the cheque I wrote you." he blurted out as smoothly as he could. "...ripped up on the coffee table."

Cassidy's expression was unreadable. "Yeah?" she offered, asking more for what it meant to him than confirmation of the fact she'd ripped it up. 

"How come?" 

She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated and closed it again. Unsure of how to word her feelings for a brief moment, but she let herself speak freely as the words came into her mind. "After everything that happened... _before all this_ and our last session...it just didn't feel right to take your money." she told him honestly. Still regretting the way she'd behaved with him the last time he was in her office. 

Her confession made Michael feel strange. It was certainly unusual to have a woman reject him financially. In recent years it felt like it had become his only draw for them. "But I need to pay you for your time." 

She shook her head adamantly. "No you don'. Not now. I can't take your money." 

"You can. I'll give you cash if you want?" he asked, reaching into his jeans for his wallet. "If you don't want the money I can get you somethin' you need, for the house or wha-" she cut him off. 

"No!" she dismissed angrily, dropping the fork she was holding onto her plate loudly and stopping him dead in his tracks. "I don't want your money and I don't want money to come into this at all.... _ever!_ " her tone was almost bitter and her eyes were hot with conviction. "I couldn't give a shit about money and I don't want you to feel like you need to buy me either." Even though her words were spoken harshly, they gave Michael a strangely magnificent sense of comfort and hope. "That's not who I am and since I can't be your therapist any more after this, it's just not right for you to pay me. _Okay?_ " 

Michael looked over her face and smiled contently. He could see that every word she said had been true to her core. She looked at him with nothing but blue eyes, not the dollar signs he was so used to seeing looking back at him. 

"Alright. Whatever you want." he relented, holding up his hands. Insisting to himself that he would try to find other ways to pay her back for all the time and attention she'd spent on him, in ways that weren't financial or material. 

He wasn't used to showing people how he felt about them without the use of his credit card, but that morning, faced with such an opportunity, he was determined to learn a new way of expressing himself. 

Cassidy swallowed a sigh, but impulse pushed her thoughts from her head and out of her mouth. "I don't wanna be another person in your life who values your money over your company." she told him, troubled for a second as an odd look came over his face as she realized how she'd carelessly let free her private assumptions about his friends and family. "I'm sorry, I-" he cut her off. 

"Nothin' to be sorry for. It's true." he said, his eyes turning a little sad. "There's not a single person in my life who doesn't want something outta me." 

"And I don't wanna be like the rest." she insisted honestly. "I like _you_ , not the thickness of your wallet or what you can get me." She hesitated for a moment, puzzling over the look on his face. He wore the expression of a hobo who had just been told he'd won the lottery. A mix of disbelief, excitement and happiness. 

"Where the hell did you come from?" he asked out. 

Her brow furrowed, thinking it an odd question. "Liber-" she stopped short at the sound of his chuckling, realizing his question was rhetorical. 

"I wish you'd gotten here sooner." he confessed, the look of satisfaction in his eyes was something of wonder. 

Cassidy gave a soft smile, catching on to his train of thought. "Yeah, me too." She admitted truthfully, but she dared not to think how different things may have been if she hadn't ended up in Vice City first. There were a million events and actions that lead her being there with him that morning, and she didn't dare think of how different things could have been for her if her life hadn't changed so dramatically many years earlier. 

They looked at each other silently for a moment, feeling no awkwardness and no need to speak aloud either, but neither was sure what to say without cracking open a whole world of problems over how the hell they'd move forward in their relationship. 

It was too early for serious talk, both in terms of time and the point of their relationship. They both wanted the good feeling inside to endure for as long as possible. and the only way to do that was to find a distraction from the pertinent questions that were attempting to pile up and forge an escape from both their minds. 

Fast, before the bubble burst around them and let all the harshness of their reality come crashing down around their ears, Cassidy spoke out. "Guess I should go shower." she said, taking a drink of chilled orange juice. 

Michael stirred inside at the very thought of her soaking wet and slippery with soap. "You need some company?" 

She thought for a long moment, deliberately teasing him. She'd lost sleep at night thinking about him being in the shower with her, and she tingled with excitement at the possibility of the fantasy becoming a reality. 

"Hmmm, I dunno." she pondered. "How good are your shampoo lathering skills?"

He gave another facial shrug for a beat. "Fair to middlin'." 

She screwed her mouth to the side and gave another thoughtful hum. "I guess I'll have to be the judge of that." Her lips broke out into a tempting smile and Michael's eyes set aflame. 

Heat rushing out from his center, down his thighs and half way up his torso. Taking her in the shower had been just one of the many fantasies he'd indulged in since meeting her. He'd spent many mornings alone under the flow of hot water, lost in a daydream of her being with him. Wondering how well his worn out knees would hold out while taking her against the shower wall.

She got up from the table without announcement, and reached out her hand to him. "You coming, or what?" 

He smirked, at her unintentionally dirty pun. "I hope we're both gonna." 

"Jesus Christ, you did not just say that." she laughed at him, as he took her hand and she pulled him out of the chair. Determined to forget all their troubles and show him -and all his corny lines- the time of his life. "Oh...and by the way, I'm totally cool with you paying me back in kind." 

Michael gave a lopsided smirk and purred. "Fuckin' A!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope that was worth waiting for. I told you there'd be some happy times....whether or not they last, you'll have to wait and see hehe! As always, I'd love to know what you guys think. Thanks for reading! :o)


	31. Falling Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Once again, thank you all for the love and support on the last chapter and your patience for my slack updating. Your kind words and kudos make the hard work so worthwhile. I'm sure you can all guess what happens in this chapter, but I've tried to put some fun dialogue and character expansion in so if you're not into the smut you'll still get something from it. I hope you all enjoy! xoxox

_"Never had much faith in love or miracles,_  
Never wanna put my heart on the line,  
But swimming in your world is something spiritual,  
I'm born again every time you spend the night. 

_You bring me to my knees_  
You make me testify,  
You can make a sinner change his ways.  
Open up your gates cause I can't wait to see the light,  
And right there is where I wanna stay. 

_'Cause your sex takes me to paradise,_  
Yeah your sex takes me to paradise,  
And it shows, yeah, yeah, yeah.  
'Cause you make me feel like, I've been locked out of heaven  
For too long, for too long...." 

**\--Locked Out Of Heaven by Bruno Mars[Bastille Cover Version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3i7n8ei13E0)  
**

With her body tingling from anticipation and not a thought in her head for the consequences, Cassidy quickly headed back up the stairs towing along an equally as excited Michael behind her. She didn't stop to spare his energy levels as she rushed up the steps and flew down the shady corridor to safely and comfort of her large bright bedroom.

Once inside, she let go of his hand and instantly began stripping off her clothes, not allowing herself to hesitate for a single moment, knowing how closely reality lingered. Knowing if she stopped to think about how she was letting herself run with him, as if he was hers and hers alone, the moment would be ruined. 

She turned her head over her shoulder to smile back at Michael alluringly as he kicked the bedroom door closed behind them and focused in on her as she disrobed. His hungry eyes fixated on her tanned skin as he trailed close at her heels, following her footsteps as she made her way around the bed to the door he'd noted the night before at the far side of the room. 

He of course had been too preoccupied with her body to find out what was inside the next room, but as she opened the door and lead him inside he was impressed to find a decent sized en-suite shower room. Walls titled with large cream ceramics, with a faint marble-like pattern that was matched across the floor and on the counter top in which a white sink was set into. 

The furthest wall was nothing but a shower area formed from a unique space. Glass doors sectioned off a large area perfect for activities beyond hygiene tasks, and the best part of all was the roof and part of the broad wall was structured by frosted glass, bringing in a glorious amount of natural light and creating the allusion of showering outside in the open air. He gave a half smile of appreciation, thinking that whoever built the house must have been his kindred spirit. 

Cassidy didn't waste a moment in stepping inside the cubical and firing up the water, that came spurting out of a large rainfall shower head which was plenty big enough to cover them both. Checking the temperature quickly, she turned back to Michael and smiled. Beckoning him over eagerly with her index finger. The sight of so much desire in her eyes send an increasingly familiar heat washing through him, as his eyes ran freely over her lithe naked body. He'd thought about a similar moment so many times he'd lost count. 

She tilted her head at him curiously, amused by the way he was standing there gawping like a horny school boy. "You coming in, or what?" she asked, stepping up to the clear screen and pressing her breasts against the glass with a teasing smirk peeling across her face. 

Michael instantly felt a twitch in his jeans and without a seconds hesitation he began the scramble to free himself from them and his boxers. More ager than he'd ever been to get in to join her and seize the opportunity he'd been longing for. It felt like all his birthdays had come at once, and something told him the reality would again surpass all the fantasies he'd had. 

Feeling closer to age fifteen than nearing fifty, he hurried over and slipped into the building steam besides her. Turning to slide the glass door closed behind him, when suddenly she cried out. 

"Oh my God! What is that?" 

Michael frowned in confusion and looked back over his shoulder, half expecting to see a spider terrorizing her or worse. Instead he found she was slightly open mouthed and pointing directly at his ass; for a second he didn't recall why. 

He craned his neck back a little more and saw a dark patch of an inking he'd long forgotten about etched onto his right butt cheek. "My high school football number." he told her.

"Oh, I coulda guessed." she giggled, having wondered where the mysterious tattoo he'd once hinted at was hidden. 

Feeling eager, Michael turned and reached out to her, grabbing her hips and pulling her into him once again. His manhood stirring further at the feel of her slick body against the dryness of his own. 

He couldn't remember the last time he'd showered with someone, he wasn't even sure if he'd ever done it with Amanda in their twenty plus years of marriage. There had never been enough room in their trailer bathroom and when they'd upgraded to Los Santos things were already too broken for those kind of pleasures. Not that he'd tried to instigate such an encounter, she always locked the door to their en-suite, reminding him how she liked her own space too much to share it with him in such an intimate way. 

"I've got some neutral smelling stuff." Cassidy told, gesturing to the alcove built into the wall that housed a small set of bathroom shelves. "You can't go home smelling like me." she said, trying to be practical in the moment while desperately resisting the guilt that hungered to get the better of her. 

"What if I wanna go home smellin' like you?" 

She reached out and picked up her a half empty shampoo bottle and showed it to him. "I don't think coconut and hibiscus is really you, is it?"

He chuckled. "Nah, guess not." 

She moved in and kissed him delicately on the lips, not quite sure how to encourage things along given that it had been sometime since she'd been so close to another person, while fully sober at least. 

Michael, however, didn't need any further persuasion. All he wanted to do was touch her, explore her body when it was slippery, and without a hesitation he let his arms encircle her waist. Pulling her back into him again tightly, kissing her deeply as the warm water came down on them. Wetting their hair and soaking their bodies, as the passion between them built. 

She ran her hands around his neck, deepening the kiss as his hands grabbed her firm ass. Pushing her firmer against his hardening cock that .

After a few moments she softly pulled her head back a little from his to flash a flirty yet tender smile. Admiring how handsome he looked in the muted sunlight, his long eyelashes spiky from the water, and a look on his face said he was already getting too carried away with the moment to remember what they were really there for. 

Feeling _almost_ too flustered to remain practical herself, Cassidy kept one arm around his neck while the other reached out to the shelf again and selected a bottle of unisex shampoo that she knew to have a fresh, clean scent that didn't linger for too long on dry hair. 

He watched what she was doing for just a second, but put his hand on hers, taking the bottle before she had chance to open it. He didn't know why, but in that moment all he wanted to do was take care of her the way she had done for him by cooking breakfast and showing him she cared for more than just his wallet. 

In spite of his growing erection, he wanted to take things slowly. Enjoy the intimacy of being with her, completely naked, fully conscious, and totally sober, in broad daylight too. As much as he wanted to lose himself inside her again, a niggling need in his head pushed him on to focus on far more than hurriedly chasing an orgasm. 

He didn't know who the person was that seemed to be taking over his body, but already he liked him. He felt like a man he wanted to let himself become. The one he'd tried and failed to be for so many years. 

"Turn around." he told her, punctuating his instruction by flipping the bottle's lid open. She did as she was told, switching position to show her back to him, waiting patiently as he filled the cup of his hand with shampoo and steadily began working into the roots of her long thick hair. 

She closed her eyes, instantly dissolving into his touch. She'd only been kidding when she asked him about his shampooing skills, but he was being modest when he'd answered - his strong fingers felt exquisite. 

She moaned softly, her body relaxing back against his, making him smiled inside. He loved hearing her moan so much already, and it made him concentrate particular attention on the area that seemed to illicit such a pleasured reaction. Enjoying the erotic sounds she made and the way her firm ass grazed against his stiffened cock as he worked a lather into her hair. 

As much as she loved him lavishing attention her with his talented fingers, she wanted to return the favour and slowly turned around to face him. Kissing him once on the mouth before blindly grabbing for the same bottle and putting a little shampoo in her hands and then reaching up to his head. 

He chuckled softly to himself, at the concentration on her face and the cute hint of tongue that peeped out between her lips as she went to work gently massaging his scalp in time with his own fingers tangling in her soapy hair. 

His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as she worked. He'd always loved having his head and hair played with, although it had been forever since someone did him the honour. She had a magical touch; just the right amount of pressure and relaxed pace that could have sent him straight off to sleep if it hadn't been for the tingling ache at his center. 

"I think you'd be cute with a mohawk." she teased. As she fashioned his short but thick black hair into a spike in the center of his head. 

"I was a more a mullet guy back in the day."

She immediately stopped what she was doing and recoiled from him. "You shittin' me?" 

He laughed deeply, at the look on abject horror on her face. "Of course. Jesus! What d'ya take me for?" 

"Thank God for that." she sighed with relief and instantly resumed her task. "I was almost gonna have to kick your ass outta here. I can't be associating with no mullet wearer, reformed or not." 

Michael chuckled deeper than before, tickled by her reaction and her sense of humour. He couldn't remember the last time someone had amused him as much as she did, and in so many different ways. He'd become estranged from laughter over the years and was even less familiar with women who entertained him so effortlessly. 

She shook her head at him softly, with a grin on her face. She already loved the way they bounced off each other; how he kept her guessing and how easily she was keeping him on his toes. It seemed like things couldn't get much better between them, despite all the obstacles they were still to face, it felt as if they already had something special and worth fighting for. 

Once all the head massaging and lathering was done, they rinsed the shampoo away and under the broad fall of warm water and started on the fresh scented body-wash. Setting straight to work on soaping each other up joyfully. 

Her hands got busy on his thick torso and strong chest, while his slick paws worked up and down her slender frame, making her squirm as his palms slid along her ticklish sides. He smirked at her response, making a mental note to use that weakness to his advantage at some point in the near future. 

Easily he lost himself in her gentle but firm touch and the feel of her slick silken skin beneath his. Rubbing his hands over her ass and hips, then making sure to pay extra special attention to her breasts, just as she guessed he would. Using soap suds as an artist would work paint across a canvas. His eyes glancing to hers every time his thumbs rubbed across her nipples and her breath hitched in her throat.

"I don't think my boobs have ever been so clean." she joked after a few minutes, enamoured by how enthusiastic his eyes and soap hands were. 

"Can't help myself." he smirked. "It's nice to feel a real pair....they are real, _right_?" concerned her full breasts were a little bit too pert and perky to be completely natural.

"Yes. Thank you." she confirmed. "No surgery for me. Not yet anyways." 

"Never, I hope." His mind flicking to his wife and how different she looked when they first met. How plastic surgery had become a bone of contention in their lives since the day he offered to pay for her breast enlargement back in the nineties Midwest. 

On impulse he spoke again, "I don't wanna change anythin' about you." he confessed, not realising he'd spoken or what it meant until the words were free in the air. 

Cassidy dipped her head shyly once again, uncertain how to handle his flattery and resisting the urge to question its depth. "Tell me that when we've been together longer than a few hours." It was a sweet sentiment from him, but she knew that he would probably lose interest in her or at least struggle with the darker sides of her personality long before time had a chance to alter her appearance. 

Michael didn't like the idea that she was getting down on herself, or their potential to be the silver-screen-perfect type of happy that he'd set his hopes on. Wanting to distracting her dark thoughts he moved in to kiss her again, working her mouth open to welcome his tongue inside once more, as their arms wrapped around each other again. Allowing the water enough time to wash the suds away as they let the passion between them run loose once again. 

He held her close to him under the water as they kissed hungrily, tongues playing with each other while their hands resumed caressing various parts of each other's bodies. She could feel the heat coming of him, and it matched what was building between her thighs. Even soaked from the shower she could feel slick wetness gathering for him between her thighs, as the urge to feel him inside her again began to become overwhelming. 

She reached down between them and found his hardened cock, there was no doubt he was as ready as she was. Without hesitation she began stroking him, making him hiss and break their lips apart. 

He stared into her eyes and saw nothing but lust looking back. Knowing how much she wanted him filled his body with a buzz that couldn't be rivalled. A beautiful, smart and funny young woman wanted him, on her and inside her and best of all - simply _around_ her. The heady, intoxicated feeling that knowledge created gave him something he knew money could never buy. 

He bought his mouth back to her, as he guided her back against the tiled wall. The coldness shocked her and she gasped, almost pulling her lips off his, but he wouldn't allow for it. He sealed his mouth around hers again and reunited their tongues, while his hands roamed down between them sliding effortlessly into the gap between her thighs and parting her slick heat with his middle finger. Finding she was already silky with need, he ran his finger up brushing over her swollen clit, making her hiss out desperately.

"Fuck!" she gasped, pulling her lips off him. "Condoms!" 

"Ah shit!" he growled, too desperate to chase a release with her again to think of the practicalities. "I'll get out and grab 'em?" he offered, but she shook her head. Despite feeling a pulsating need to have him inside her again, she didn't want to ruin the moment or feel his warmth move away from her. 

"It's okay, there's other stuff we can do." she smiled irresistibly. 

"Oh really?" His eyebrows raised, his hopes elevating for the experience of her full lips wrapped around his cock. 

"Not that." she laughed, pushing at him playfully. "Oral sex in the shower is like being fucking water-boarded." 

Michael laughed heartily, amusement mixing strangely with his arousal but his negative mind stamped on the flow of laughter and tugged him towards a thought of her being with another guy, _or a girl_. 

A cold sense of jealousy rolled through him but he instantly blinked the thoughts away, not wanting to consider there was ever anyone before him. Knowing envy and anxiety might get the better of him if he lingered too long on the people in her past. 

Sensing his mind was wandering to troubled thoughts, she pulled him back. "Hey! You better not be one of those dudes who doesn't like to go down on a girl, 'cause that's gonna be a deal breaker." 

Michael snickered at her audacity and the playfulness in her eyes, his mind and body aroused merely at the suggestion. He'd thought about it a hundred times. Visions of hiking up one of the skirts she wore during his unscheduled therapy sessions and burying his face in her. Spending nights imagining what she'd taste like, how her hands would feel in his hair, how many times he could make her cum with his mouth. Excited for a chance to dust off his old tricks and pleasure her in ways he'd almost forgotten how to do

"Oh I like to." he purred deeply. "Just... _you know_...I'm not exactly in the habit of tryin' to please most of the women I've been with lately." he confessed a little nervous to remind her that he'd been paying cash for ninety-five percent of the sex he'd had in at least the last fifteen years. "So, I'm outta practice." 

Cassidy gave a faint but reassuring smile, against the horrid but fleeting thoughts of other women and his wife. A little snide troll standing at the back of her mind, jumping at the chance to ruin the moment with a reminder of their reality, but she slapped it away. There'd be forever to regret her actions when she was alone again. For now she wanted to make of the most of pretending he was hers and hers alone. 

"Well, I can help you work on that later." she promised. The thought of finally tasting her sent sparks along Michael's spine and his eyes handsome blue eyes sparkled with excitement. "But until then...." she whispered, her hand finding his hardness again. "I think you still owe me from downstairs." 

He instantly took her meaning, and a rush of passion made him crush her mouth with his. Wasting not a moment in putting his hand back between her thighs, sliding a finger through her silky wetness again and finding the alert peak of nerves that ached for his touch. 

She moaned into his mouth as he gently began to work at her; her hand stroking his throbbing cock in time with the touches he bestowed on her. He groaned in response, his hips making light thrusting motions as she ground herself against his hand, longing for more but content with what was offered. 

His skin burned with arousal, his every sense excited by the experience, as her breathing quickly became ragged with the slick circles he rubbed around her eager clit. Her breathy moans made it hard for them to keep kissing so he broke away from her mouth and moved to her jaw. 

Kissing and nipping his way down her neck as the feel of his stubble scraping her skin, and his skilful fingers took her over. Her body was awash with tingling arousal, and she grabbed at his shoulder with her free hand. Desperately trying to maintain her assault on his cock through her own pleasure and as he altered position, lowering down a little to find her breast with his mouth. 

Keeping her in place against the tiles with one hand on her waist, he worked her most sensitive areas as best he could. His mouth gently sucking and licking at her nipple, making her moan out while his fingers changed their approach. 

Hand slick with her need, he reached a little lower and teased at her entrance with one finger, encouraging her hips to pull away from the wall a little so he could ease two long thick digits inside her. Every muscle in his body tensing as she whimpering out his name, her walls tightening around his touch.

Michael's cock throbbed painfully at the sound, but he focused through the intense urges to put all his attention onto working her clit with his thumb as he steadily thrust his fingers back and forth. Making a beckoning motion that stimulated her sweetest spot and caused her body to quiver around him. 

His touch stole away her focus, all she could manage to do was grab a hold of his other shoulder for balance, her body pinned firm against the cold shower wall as she submitted to him entirely. Feeling the tingling tension building inside as his rhythmic touch worked magic within her. 

Frustrated noised quickly filled the bathroom as she wished for him to just use his mouth to finish her off quickly, delighted and frustrated by the pleasure all at once. Silently begging for release from the sweetest torture with gasping moans, and the frustrated grinding of her hips, pleading with him to press a little firmer and faster. 

Looking up from her neck he smirked at her, loving the look of ecstasy on her face as he worked her to orgasm. "Oh...my God! Please don't stop." she begged breathily, worried he'd torture her just like he had downstairs, if given half a chance. 

The sound of her begging and the feel of her tightening around his fingers was almost too much for him to bare himself. He wanted to be inside her -deep inside her tight heat- thrusting his hips wildly but there was something so erotic about just using his hands. The hands that had done so much damage over the years were finally finding a purpose for good. 

He stood up a little straighter, needing a better angle as his unskilled thumb struggled to keep any semblance of a rhythm against her clit but she didn't care. The fingers inside her were doing most of the work, the erratic attack on her clit somehow seemed to be in a perfect kind of harmony, making the intense warmth inside her build strong and stronger with each movement. 

He could tell by the way she felt inside that she was close, _really close_ , and he sped up his movements a little, not wanting her to suffer for a moment longer than she had to. She cried out in pleasure, grabbing at his arm, feeling the first bite of an approaching orgasm. 

"Look at me." he ordered and her eyes snapped open, meeting his. The intensity with which he looked at her was incredible, dominant and powerful but something in his eyes was so loving. Silently revealing to her that her pleasure mattered to him as much -if not more- than his own. 

He moved his free hand from her hip to the small of her back, pushing her into his hand to reach deeper and trigger the reaction she was desperate for. "Cum for me baby." he growled, almost on the edge himself just by looking at her. 

Everything about the moment was so much better than he'd pictured in his mind a hundred times. Each tiny part of him was tingling uncontrollably as his manhood ached from intense arousal. It felt as if just the feel of her body and the noises she was making could have finished him. 

The sound of his demand was too much and she let out a choked cry as blissful orgasm took her. Every muscle in her body tensed as she dug her nails into his shoulder and arm and she cried out in pleasure. "M-oh-fuck-Mi-Michael! Fuck!" she hiccupped out, her hips grinding frantically against his hand and he drew every possible thread of pleasure through her. Feeling a rush of glossy wetness coating his hand as she came hard around his fingers. 

He groaned, feeling as if he was going to explode watching and feeling her body's response to his actions. It felt unbelievably good to know that he was still able to please a woman in such a way. A young and sexy woman who was as turned on by him as he was by her. 

"Jesus Christ!" she gasped out, tingling golden warm pulsing through her. Her voice as shaky as her body as she slipped a little way down the tiles. Grabbing onto him for support as she trembled with waves of residual pleasure filtering through her. 

When first it happened he'd become enchanted with how hard she seemed to cum for him and the way she quivered in pleasure. How her eyes glazed over and the way her voice strained to vocalise what she was feeling. Her reactions seemed so much more intense than he could recall seeing from another woman and it made him smirk proudly. He was sure he'd never get bored of inflicting such bliss on her. 

The feeling of her spasming inside made his cock ache, and he slowly slid his fingers out of her and she gave a little whimper, part in pleasure and part in disappointment that it was over. Breathing heavily she watched through hazy half-hooded eyes, as he bought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked. His eyes glinting with delight as he tasted the traces of her on his hand that avoided the shower spray. 

She felt dizzy with arousal, and bit her lip to stop herself saying something crazy. Ravaged with glowing tingles and fired up with passion, she wanted to do so much with him. She wanted him to fuck her right there under the hot water -condoms be damned- but in the back of her mind she knew not to be so reckless.

Taking a few deep breaths to regain control in her eagerness to return the favour; she reached out to take his throbbing length in her hand. The intense wince on his face told her he was already crossing the point of no return and she smiled to herself, feeling her own arousal heighten again with the knowledge of how turned on she'd got him. 

His mouth hung open as she bought her lips to his, running her tongue over his thin bottom lip before gently taking it between her teeth, staring into his eyes deeply as she bit down on it softly, as her hand began to work him. 

He groaned deep and animalistic as she applied the perfect amount of pressure around him, their mouths melding into a passionate kiss. Her limber wrist starting to pump up and down fluidly as they kissed deep and sloppily. His moans and groans made it hard to maintain lip contact again, and it encouraged her to tease his tongue with her own without out their mouths touching. 

His breathing became laboured as he rapidly lost himself in her. Everything she was doing felt, looked, and sounded perfect and he wished it could last forever, but the moment she begged him to let go for her in return, he instantly went off in her hand. 

"Fuck me. Cass!" he strained out as orgasm erupted through him, his eyes locked onto hers. Their blue irises glowing with passion, as another perfect orgasm washed through him fierily. 

She softened her grip as he came, uncertain of he needed her touch but his hand clamped around hers, keeping it in place as the pleasure rippled through him, his hips pumping softly as he rode the orgasm she'd given him. 

He closed his eyes tightly, trying as best he could keep a touch on the currently reality as pleasure stole his mind away dizzyingly, the initial rush of orgasm making his heart pound and his body shudder. Tingling warm heat filled him from head to toe and with an exhausted gasp he pulled her hand off him and let it drop at her side, scared that if she continued any kind of touch against him he'd collapse. 

"Fuck!" he gasped, grabbing at the wall for support, his head hanging low with exhaustion. Taking a few moments just to breathe before slowly opening his eyes as a faint moan escaped his lips. Looking up to bring his focus onto her face again with hazy eyes. 

She smiled at him proudly for a beat, before running her tongue over her full lips. Her eyes sparkling with devilish desire. "Jesus fuckin' Christ!" he groaned, torn between exhaustion and the tense urge inside him to gather up his strength and fuck her brains out. 

Unable to run with the latter, he slumped forward a little onto her, using the last of his energy to find her mouth to kiss her softly. Letting them both enjoy a few lazy but passionate kisses before he pulled back again. Pressing his forehead against hers, he looked deep into her eyes and she smiled mischievously. 

"You're gonna kill me!" he warned, his voice raspy. 

"I hope not. I kinda like ya." 

Michael snickered softly, feeling the familiar lift in his shoulders again. Everything about that moment - hell, that entire morning- had been better than he could have ever dreamed. His body was more alive than it had been in years, tingling with pleasure and aching with joy, burning deep with an emotion he was afraid to give a name to in that moment. 

"Well, I kinda like you too." he teased, playing along with her coyness. 

"I should hope so." she giggled, snaking her arms around his neck and pulling herself into him. With his strength steadily refilling, he wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her in tight against him and nuzzling her neck lovingly. Despite the passionate intensity and faint hints of the much dirtier sides of their sexual personas, they both craved affection in the afterglow. 

Michael hadn't realized just how much he'd truly missed the physical connection after sexual release, until he'd been with her. The endless disconnect with disposable women usually left him empty after the fact but being with her - the tenderness between them, the passion and playfulness - it was everything he wanted and everything that had been missing from his life for so long. 

They hugged each other under the warm water, kissing and nuzzling for a while as the sexual mist slowly cleared and bought them back to the real world. "I guess we should get out. Prune ain't a good look for me." she suggested with a tone of reluctance that bordered on disappointment. 

"Yeah, me either." he agreed, deciding she maybe needed a minute to clean up and finish doing whatever girls had to take care of, he stepped back and rinsed himself off. Taking a moment to kiss her tenderly on the forehead before slipping away from her and reluctantly moving to the shower door. Hesitating for a moment, just long enough to take a lingering look at her naked body before stepping out and leaving her to finish up. Taking himself off in search of clean towels out in the bathroom.

Cassidy couldn't stop smiling as she washed herself off, she couldn't remember a time when she'd felt so many good things all that once. His passionate touch and gentle tenderness warmed her inside, filled her with excitement and a feeling of contentment that she hadn't experienced ever before. She knew it was ridiculous to let herself get carried away, it would only lead to pain -she was certain of that- but being with him, one-on-one felt so perfect and filled her in ways she'd longed for. 

Eager to be back with him, she shut off the water and slid the glass shower door open, finding him waiting with a towel for her. She smiled at him sweetly, shocked by the fact he seemed so unexpectedly attentive. Although his behaviour did seem to match up with how her predecessor had said he longed for intimacy and affection. He was showing her everything she wanted to see in him and by the look on his face, she was doing the same in return. 

She stepped into the towel he held open and he wrapped it around her, making sure she was okay, and stealing another long kiss, before heading into the bedroom to dry off. Cassidy felt like she was walking on a cloud, her lips struggling to keep from locking in a permanent smile as she watched him disappear into her bedroom, noting how at home he looked already. 

Turning to grab another towel for her hair she caught sight of herself in the mirror and was taken aback by the way she seemed to be glowing. She nibbled her lip, resisting making eye contact with her reflection. Knowing the darker side of herself would spoil the moment if she looked too closely at her happiness. 

She didn't want to stop and think about how wrong it was to do what they were doing, how she was betraying her profession and his support needs, or the way she was so happily carrying on with a married man. There would be plenty of time later for the morality police to pull a raid on her happiness, in that moment all she wanted to do was continue to play pretend, like they were both free run together with the contentment they found in each other. 

Taking a deep breath that kept her grounded in the moment, she wrapped another towel around her head and made her way into the bedroom. Finding Michael laid out across the bed with nothing but his towel around his waist. Sitting up on his elbows, looking like king of the fucking world as he focused in on her keenly. 

Watching in silence as she worked at dying off her hair and then her body, losing more and more of her towel as she went until she was naked in front of him again. She tingled with the feel of his eyes admiring her body, taking longer than she normally would to finish up, sensing how much he was enjoying the impromptu show she was putting on for him. Aroused by the way he enjoyed watching her touch herself with the towel, ending the little performance by bending to pick up the second towel she'd dropped and feeling a powerful twitch of arousal between her thighs with the way he groaned at the sight of her ass. 

"You're such a pervert." she teased, turning and throwing her towel at him. 

"Can't help myself." he purred, watching captivated as she wandered naked to her dresser to find some underwear. His cock quickly coming back to life beneath the towel that covered his lap. 

He wasn't sure where the hell it was all coming from, but he was tingling wildly again at just the sight of her slipping into her panties and putting on her bra. He'd always thought there was something so sexy about watching a woman dress. Of course, Amanda had always kicked him out of the bedroom whenever she was getting ready and he hadn't realized just how enjoyable simply watching was. It seemed so intimate, beyond physical touch. As if he was privy to moments in her life that were normally purely her own. 

"You gonna lie here all day?" she asked sassily, coming down to lay on her front next to him on the bed, wearing only a lacy pink bra and a tiny pair of matching panties. 

"I'm thinkin' about it." he snarked, and her eyes glinted with amusement and maybe a little hopefulness, as he reached out and began to run his finger tips over the exposed small of her back. "But I wanna fix that wall, so I gotta hit the hardware store up the road." his eyes focused in on the Venus dimples just above her butt. Letting the tip of his index finger glide across them as his mouth longed to place wet kisses where he touched. "You gonna come with me?" he asked hopefully, looking back up at her face. 

She instantly shook her head, her expression turning serious as a chill ran through her at the recollection of the true reality that lingered outside. "No. I can't."

"Why not?" he frowned, worried she had some pre-existing plans for the day. Placing his full, warm, hand across her lower back, an unconscious way of keeping her in place. 

She sighed, disappointed that the bubble was about to be burst so soon. "What if someone sees us."

"I don't care." 

"I do!" she defended. "This...." she gestured between the two of them. "As good as it is, it could cost me my whole career, everything." she said, ungrateful for how close to the surface her concerns were. "Not to mention if you're wife-" he cut her off.

"She doesn't know anybody 'round here." 

Cassidy almost rolled her eyes. "Well, they invented these things called cars, which help people travel across town." she said sarcastically. 

Michael strangely enjoyed her playing him at his own game with the sarcasm, but he didn't like her negativity. He knew everything between them was on a knife edge, but he wasn't ready to fully acknowledge it. "No one's gonna see us." he assured. "It's Sunday mornin', I don't know anyone out this way. If we bump into anyone that you know-" she cut him off. 

"I don't exactly know many people in town." 

"Well, there ya go then." he smiled, gesturing enthusiastically. "I wanna get out and do somethin' with you." 

"A hardware store isn't exactly my idea of a romantic date."

He chuckled lightly. "Mine either, but you know...we can make it fun." he gave her a look which said his mind was on the dirt track again. 

"Oh my God!" she giggled, dropping her head on the mattress. Amused by how she could read his seemingly filthy mind and almost picture the vision he held in his head of messing with her in one of the dark aisles of the store. 

Michael laughed deeply. "I ain't gonna take no for an answer, baby. _Come with me_. It'll take ten minutes then we can spend the rest of the day hangin' out here." 

Cassidy felt reality tug at her mind, reminding her that he wasn't hers for the taking but she liked his enthusiasm. She knew it was foolish to feel so excitable that early into their relationship but now she'd given in and taken the plunge with him, she desperately wanted to explore what their normality could be. To step outside and feel just a little bit of what it would be like for the world to see them as a couple - if that was what there were somehow aiming to be. 

For as much as she knew it was wrong, and complicated beyond words, she already knew she was setting her heart on a real relationship with him. She'd tried to deny it but she'd fallen for him weeks ago. Fallen for everything about him, from the sound of his voice and his handsome face, to complexities of his character, to the tender touch of his strong hands and the way his warm gaze made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in existence. She wanted him to be hers, so badly it felt like a physical ache in her chest. 

She raised her head again, hair falling over her face, she turned to look at him again. Her eyes glinting with contentment as she reached out and picked up his hand. Effortlessly she her fingers through his, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and it felt like it too. The way his eyes lit up told her so. 

"Come on, whaddaya say?" he charmed, rubbing the side of her hand with his thumb. 

Looking at how nicely their hands fit together despite the size difference, she blew out a sigh, knowing resistance was futile. Truth was, she didn't want to reject his offer. She already wanted to do so many things with him -experience all life had to offer with him- even mundane. 

"You better make it worth my while." she teased, pushing back her practical concerns and leaning over to meet his lips with a warm kiss. 

"Oh, I can do that." he purred back, adjusting his position to roll onto his side so that his body partly covered hers. Kissing her deeply again for a moment or two once, guiding her on to her back. Once they were both in place he slowly began moving his mouth to her neck, kissing another a wet trail and along her collarbone. 

Cassidy breathed out a whispered moan before biting onto her lip, feeling her excitement start to gather as he moved his lips down to near the new lacy bra she was wearing. Bringing his hands up and softly kneaded her breasts while his mouth covered her chest in warm kisses, causing a rush of sexual energy between them that set off his urge to kiss his way down her slender body. 

She fought to resist melting away into the mattress and propped herself up on her elbows, looking down at him as he kissed and nipped a path down her torso. Watching him as he went, coyly wondering what he was doing for a moment until his lips passed below her belly button and he carefully slipped off the side of the bed. 

Once settled on the floor, he suddenly grabbed her hips and roughly pulled her down the mattress a little, closer to him. She let out an excited yelp as her upper body gave and she dropped back onto the bed fully. The amused growl she heard from him made her snicker, as she closed her eyes and let him settle himself in place between her thighs. 

He didn't know where the youthful exuberance was coming from, but the urge to put his lips on her was too much. His mouth starting to water with anticipation of tasting her properly for the first time, as he carefully peeled down the panties she'd only just put on. 

An excited gasp caught in her throat as she felt his fingers tug at her underwear. A fresh rush of tingles broke out over the lower half of her body. Her skin catching aflame at the mere suggestion of what he was about to do. 

All the nights she'd spent lying in that very bed, fantasising about how well he'd perform were about to come to fruition. She tingled wildly, feeling herself begin to pulse with excitement, his warm hands caressing her hips and outer thighs as he began to kiss his way down her inner leg from the knee. His stubbled chin assaulting the sensitive skin and causing her wetness to build all over again, but the muffled chirping of a cell-phone cut through the heated silence like a gunshot. 

"Aw shit!" Michael growled, throwing his head back in frustration. "I thought I'd turned that fucker off!" 

A bitter coldness came over Cassidy which gleefully told her this was it, the final curtain - _the end_. Fini! 

No couples trip to the hardware store. No fixed hole in her wall. No orgasm from the use of his mouth and tongue. No more kissing and cuddling. No more ignoring the fact he had a life outside of the bubble they'd let form around them. 

As if someone had thrown up a neon sign in front of his eyes, Michael instantly remembered the responsibilities outside of pleasuring her and panicked. "I'm sorry, baby." he offered from between her legs. Looking up at her from where he knelt with a strained look. "I gotta get that."

Understandingly, she nodded and silently released him. 

He got up quickly, making sure his towel was fixed securely over his growing hardness, before ducking into the bathroom and finding his jeans on the floor. She sat up on the bed and adjusted herself, suddenly feeling vulnerable and a little nervous to look through into the bathroom. Uneasy with the way she saw him desperately rummaged into his pockets, cursing once or twice before he pulled out his ringing phone. Turning to move back into the bedroom with jeans in hand as he checked the caller ID and answered. 

"Hey T! What's up?" Cassidy listened closely, pulling her knees in to her chest as she set in the center of the bed. Her stomach sinking lower and lower with every weighted second. Watching the way his facial expressions changed as he listened to the caller. "....Oh shit! I totally forgot.... _fuck!_....Where are you?....Shit! Fuck! _A'right!_ Chill out!....Well if he's not there yet the- _fuck!_... Alright, Alright! Al-fuckin'-right!" he roared, almost making Cassidy jump. "I'm on my way.....I know, I know...shut the fuck up! I'm comin'!" 

Cassidy scurried up towards the head of the bed and braced herself for the inevitable end to their time together, as Michael slammed the cell-phone down on her dresser angrily and quickly began pulling on his boxers and jeans. 

"I totally forgot I gotta take the stones to the buyer." he announced, not looking at her as he struggled to recall where all his other things were, like a shirt and boots, the bag with two million dollars worth of rocks in. "Didn't realize the damn time." he complained, without paying any mind to Cassidy who had completely withdrawn. Hugging her knees to her chest, helpless to an overwhelming sense of rejection that leapt at the chance to swallow her whole. 

Mentally scrambling to gather himself, Michael stuffed his phone in his pocket and walked out of the bedroom. Heading downstairs to find his belongings without casting Cassidy a single look. Leaving her completely alone in her room again, feeling almost dirty and sick to her stomach with shock at how quickly the mood had changed. 

Guilt, anxiety, regret and fear began seeping through the cracks in the defences she'd let falter in the warmth of his love. Negativity quickly flooding her bloodstream and sucking her into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. 

Desperate to try holding onto him, she scrambled off the bed and grabbed for a baggy t-shirt that was draped over the chair in the corner of her room, then flew out of her bedroom door after him. Pulling it on as she swept back along the corridor, somehow hoping the t-shirt would shield her from all the horrid emotions that were nipping at her heels in a bid to overcome her. 

She'd known all along that the bubble would burst abruptly -and sooner rather than later- but she didn't expect it to hurt as much as it already seemed to. Especially since he didn't seem to care how things looked to her at all. Business appeared more important than breaking news of his departure delicately. 

Quickly, on a blast of nervous energy, she trotted down the stairs, listening close to all the movements in the house as she went, but she slowed down unexpectedly. Freezing to the spot on the half-landing; afraid of seeing the end play out if she got any nearer to the bottom of the stairs. 

Listening closely, she heard a bag zipping up, then his body dumping down into the couch, probably to tie up his boots or pull on his t-shirt. She held on the stair rail tightly, feeling her stomach roll over at the sound of leather slapping, signalling he'd put his jacket on, then a jingle of keys, and another slump into the couch. 

Wondering for a second if he was hesitating on his departure, she turned the curve of the stairs and looked out sheepishly across to the living room area just as she had earlier that morning. Seeing him exactly as she'd pictured on the couch. Quickly tying his laces before jumping to his feet again, showing her that his decision to leave hadn't faulted as he picked up the duffle bag from where he'd dumped it on the coffee table and headed for the door without a word. 

This was him. The real Michael. 

The selfish, inconsiderate man she'd been warned about all along. 

Her mouth opened to call after him, as she hurried to take the last few steps down onto his level, but she couldn't make a sound. Emotion was blocking her throat, her head spinning with how quickly everything was going so wrong. How fast he'd changed back into someone who seemed to only be able to hold one objective in his mind at a time. 

Suddenly aware of the heat of her eyes on him, Michael stopped dead in his tracks. Impact of what he was doing suddenly breaking through his panic and sending his heart falling to his feet. Realizing in an instant how badly he was behaving. 

Quickly he turned back to face her, seeing her staring unfocusedly with such a sad, almost broken expression. Holding onto the end of the banister nervously, as if she was afraid she'd fall if she let go. It seemed like she was barely able to look at him as she crossed one arm over her body, bringing her hand to her mouth to nervously nibble at her thumb. 

He felt sick at how blind and selfish he'd naturally become. Words that reminded him to do better suddenly began to clang inside his head and he carelessly dropped the bag he was carrying and moved back across the room to her. 

Closing the gap across the living room and kitchen, stepping up to reach out to touch her but she took a step back, and turned her head away from him dismissively. 

"Cass?" he cooed to her. "I'm sorry." 

"It's fine. Just go do whatever you have to." she told him, desperate to get him out her sight before the boiling emotions inside her exploded and crushed all their progress and promise in the blast. 

He felt a horrible sense of guilt settle in his stomach. He didn't mean to end things so abruptly but he had no other choice. He had to get rid of the diamonds he was in possession of, for his own safety as well as hers, not to mention that Lester was counting on him. 

"I wouldn't leave unless I had to." he told her, hoping she'd look at him and see the honesty in his eyes, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. 

"It's fine. Go." she said again, emptily. Hating herself for how she was being so dramatic and ridiculous over a one night -and half a morning- stand coming to an end. She'd known all along, in the back of her mind, that it would end like this, but she'd been expecting his family to call him home first. She hadn't prepared herself for him to disappear on the word of his partner in crime instead. 

"Cassidy? Listen to me." he said, stepping up as close to her as he could get at the foot of the staircase and grabbing her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. He could see her eyes we glistening with the threat of tears and it poked painfully at his heart. "I'm comin' back." he told her firm and honest. "I don't want to leave you and I wouldn't if I didn't have to do this." he was desperate for her to believe him but he could see she was trying hard not to buy into his words. 

He'd disappointed her already and given her no reason to trust him. He didn't dare think of how much she'd read about him that warned he wasn't always a man of his word. She had no reason to put any faith in him, or to believe that he wasn't just using the call as an excuse to run away. 

"I'm gonna come back as soon as I'm done." he insisted, trying in tell her with his eyes how much he wished he could stay. "It shouldn't take me long, I just gotta drive out to the airfield, make the exchange and then I'm comin' right back here. I promise." 

She almost recoiled at his words; she didn't believe him. The phone call just expedited the inevitable excuse to leave her. He'd walk out the door, be smacked in the face by reality and go back home to his family with his tail between his legs. Where he'd chalk her up as another mistake in his _chase-it-get-it-hate-it_ mentality. 

"Yeah, okay." she muttered, obviously unconvinced. Moving an inch or two to her left and stepping off the stairs, brushing past him to move over to the dining table. Setting about clearing up the remnants of their first morning together. 

Michael turned after her, opening his mouth to defend himself, but closing it again before he could. He fidgeted on the spot for a moment, knowing that he didn't have the time to explain everything he was feeling inside to her right then. As badly as he wanted to he couldn't just blurt out words that named the emotions that raged for her inside him. 

It was the wrong time for carelessly confess anything, and he didn't want to blow it. He'd learned a long time ago that spur of the moment choices resulted in disaster, and along the way he'd realized that nothing good came easy, he had to put work first. Once he was free of his obligations to his colleagues, he'd be able to concentrate on her and helping them establish a solid foundation that they could really build something truly magnificent on. 

He stepped over to where she was beginning to gather their plates and reached out to grasp her arm gently. She stopped what she was doing but didn't look at him. "I _will_ come back." he said firmly; tugging gently at her arm. Silently asking her to look at him. 

She lifted her head slowly, half turning her body to him on instinct alone. Despite the chaos in her head she didn't want to push him away, she couldn't stand the idea of him leaving. Going back to being alone again; alone and wondering where he was and what he was doing. Who he was with, and if he was able or even willing to think of her. 

"This mornin'...." he continued. "It's been the best mornin' I can remember havin'. I don't want this to end, I ain't lookin' to hit in and quit it this time, but I've gotta go do this thing."

"I know." she nodded, she understood completely why he had to leave her but understanding and wanting to see it happen were two different things. 

Michael's eyes looked as sad as she felt, and he leant into her, reaching out to cup her cheek. Looking into her eyes honestly for a moment before bringing his mouth to hers and kissing her deeply. 

She couldn't fight herself from responding to him, desperate to feel the pleasure from his touch that seemed to anesthetize the negative emotions within her. She melted into him again, slipping her own arms around him as he caressed her cheek and hugged her close. 

It felt like a goodbye kiss, something final and they both knew that it very well could be, for more than one reason. What he was about to do was dangerous - a risk to life and liberty. There was also an ever present danger from his sense of guilt or a call to his other responsibilities that lived outside of their bubble. A dozen things that could keep him from her, but he was determined to fight them all. 

He held her for as long as he dared, reluctant to let their kiss end until they softly and mutually broke it, switching to tighten their hug instead. Holding one another closer and breathing each other in for one last time. Each rerunning all the drama and passion of the night before, unable to understand how it had lead to such a beautiful morning and such pain for them to part. 

Michael closed his eyes tightly, trying to gather up as much of the good feelings she filled him with as he could. Hoping the comfort of her arms would be enough to get him through facing his angry best friend and their even angrier diamond buyer. 

As they hugged, Cassidy clutched at the worn leather of his jacket, wishing with all she had that he didn't have to go. She could already feel a wall of division coming between them and she knew it was something that would only solidify in his absence. Forcing her back into the darkness that she'd tried so hard to evade that morning. 

The demanding voice of reason and order in his head told him to knock it off; reminding him that people were waiting on his presence a long drive away from where he stood with her in his arms. Reluctantly, Michael sighed and slowly loosened his embrace, easing back to look into her eyes intensely trying to show her that he meant every word he said. That he wasn't lying. That he would be back, come hell or high water. 

"Just be careful." she told him. "Please." she could understand why he might choose not to come back, hell - she expected it to happen. She imagined the reminder of his life outside her home would be all that was needed for him to go running back to his family, but the idea of him getting hurt out there and somehow being unable to return due to him being injured -or worse- stung so much more than the idea of rejection being proven. 

"I will." he assured her. "I'll be back soon." with that he placed a warm, loving kiss on her forehead and let go of her. Forcing himself to turn away and hurrying over to the door to pick up the bag of diamonds again before pausing to take one last look at her standing there in the kitchen, again with her arms folded, nervously chewing on her thumb nail. 

His chest ached in a way he couldn't ever remember feeling, it made him feel so alive, wanted and determined. He didn't care how long it took or who he had to fight to get back there, he'd do it. He wasn't ready to walk away from what they had, and he didn't have to look very deep inside himself to know he would have stayed forever if his hand hadn't been forced. 

He gave her a soft, reassuring smile and before he could convince himself to throw all his responsibilities out the window and stay put, he opened the door and walked out. Taking everything he'd bought into her home with him, accept for the bloodied over-shirt that remained draped over her couch. 

Leaving Cassidy standing all alone there in his wake, barefoot on the cold kitchen floor with a doomed silence swirling around her. One that threatened to push her right back to the state she'd been in when he'd turned up on her doorstep a matter of hours before. Alone, hurting, and confused. Longing for something she knew she could never truly have, and wondering if she'd ever see that something in person again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it for now. I hope you all enjoyed reading, and as always I would love to hear what you thought and if you think Michael is actually going to come back or if his conscience will get the better of him haha! Thanks for reading! :o)


	32. Ill Gotten Gains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! The day has finally come to release this chapter haha! Thanks to all of you who left comments and kudos here on the last update, and also to those of you who have reached out to me via Tumblr and email - it means so much to me to hear your thoughts on this story and it makes all the hard worth worthwhile to know you guys are enjoying it so much. You're love and positivist keeps this thing going! ;o) 
> 
> So, we're going to see a familiar face in this chapter, and I'm not gonna lie - I'm a bit nervous but also excited to share this with you. So I've got my fingers crossed that you'll all enjoy what I've done with this chapter.

_Love is wasted, sorry for this I never meant to be_   
_Hurting ourselves, hurting ourselves,_   
_And I'm complicated, you won't get me_   
_I have trouble understanding myself, understanding myself._   
_My head is a jungle, jungle_   
_My head is a jungle, jungle_   
_My head is a jungle, jungle_   
_My head._   
[ **Jungle by Emma Louise**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oy6k9U5E8UQ)

 

Abruptly torn away from the blissful comfort of Cassidy's house, Michael found himself sitting inside his car with his hands holding the wheel, forehead resting against the backs of his palms. Just as he'd done so many times before on his own driveway. Eyes closed and focused in on the heavy sense of deflation that had hollowed him out inside. The bitterest of comedowns after such an incredible start to the day. 

The weight of the world had scrambled back up onto his shoulders the very second he heard her front door click closed behind him. Every part of him had wanted to turn and run back inside. Longing to hide himself away with her and forget he had any sense of a life beyond the four walls of her beach house. 

Just being around her had lifted him in a way he hadn't ever felt before. Even since they'd first met she's shown an ability to make his days brighter, and being in her company as more than just a patient felt better than he could have ever imagined. It seemed as if everything had finally clicked into place for them, but the duffle bag full of diamonds in the passenger side footwell commanded his attention and a return to his reality. Silently demanding that he fulfil his obligations, and quick! 

A flashback to a few hours before he'd turned up on her doorstep crossed his mind. Memories of a night full of gunfire and yelling. The way his muscles screamed as his heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest and sprint on ahead of him. He'd been amazed by the way that just walking into her house had filled him with a sense of calm and safety that rivalled an intravenous sedative. How with one look at her made it feel like the dangers at his back were a thousand miles away. 

His thoughts skilfully dodged reliving the fight he'd had with Cassidy and focused on Lester instead. Running back over how his old friend had come to him asking for help with a job. Trying so hard to disguise the importance of the score, when he implored Michael to help guarantee it would go smoothly. Reluctantly explaining how he needed help to fund his medical bills after a catastrophic error on the stock market had forced him to eat deep into his nest egg. 

Easily recalling how his friends wellbeing relied on him delivering their ill gotten gains, he reluctantly pulled his head up from its resting place and looked back to Cassidy's front door again. The urge to go back inside to her was incredibly powerful, but he knew he had to stop being selfish for a moment. Lester was counting on him. Not to mention Trevor was probably being held at gun point waiting on his arrival. He guessed Franklin could have been there too, and he hated the idea of the kid being in danger once again because of his choices. 

"Alright, let's do this." he told himself firmly, and turned the key in the ignition. Pushing down the fevered urge to say _'fuck it'_ and go back inside, he popped the car into reverse and eased off the driveway. Hesitating for one moment more, just to take another look at her front door, promising himself he'd be back before she had chance to miss him. 

Inside however, Cassidy was certain that Michael would never return to her house. Not unless he was drunk, needy or his wife had kicked him out. To her negative mind, it seemed like the telephone call had just expedited the end of the illusion their desire for one another had created. The truth was, she didn't trust him to honour his word, and she didn't trust herself to know if she really wanted him to or not. Too scared to think of the complications and the damage that further indulgence in one another could cause. 

As she sat at her kitchen table her mind was restless and uneasy. _'You have to give him the benefit of the doubt, Cass.'_ she told herself. _'Sure, everyone says he's a liar but you don't know that he's lied to you yet, he might be trying to be a better per-'_ she cut herself off. _'Yeah, right!'_ her negativity scoffed back, causing the emotional war inside to rage. _'Didn't he say he'd promised his wife he'd be a better man? Look how long that lasted! I bet that drive out to the desert will give him plenty of time to come to his senses and start feeling guilty.....Then he'll forget all about what he promised you and go back home where he belongs._ she sighed heavily, clenching her jaw. Straining against the anxious push and pull she felt inside trying to tear her apart. 

_'Look, just give him a few hours. It'll take him at least one to get out there, then maybe another hour to do whatever he's gotta do, then another to drive back here. If he's not back by sunset, then you can have your silly little meltdown. Okay? Just chill. Give him unti-'_ Her negativity piqued again and she almost physically recoiled. _'Don't be dumb, Cass. You could have every trace of him cleaned out of here by sundown, you could be half way to being over his ass by then. You don't wanna still be feeling like this when it gets dark. He's not gonna come back, you know tha-'_

She slammed her fist down on the table in frustration, sick and tired of being torn every which way by her conflicting thoughts that seemed impossible to escape. She couldn't remember when exactly she'd let herself get so neurotic, since she'd spent so much of her life never questioning her actions or her motivations. She'd lived for the moment for the longest time, but the trauma and loss she'd seen had changed her inside even more than she realized. 

Living life looking over her shoulder had caused so much anxiety to grow out of her guilt and insecurities. The shadows of her past her darkened her heart and turned her into someone she didn't like or properly recognize anymore. 

Knowing that her story was too much for most to swallow -and that there were people out there who still wanted her dead- had caused her to change in so many ways. Finding herself constantly struggling to relax and fully trust in the people around her. Worst of all, she struggled to trust herself the most. 

Especially now, after having made a decision to move to Los Santos and making a personal promise to herself to remain alone. Swearing that she'd stay out of relationships and avoid risks or exposure in any way she could. 

She'd spent weeks back in New Austin, convincing herself to move away. Believing that it was safer if she resisted making connections and getting mixed up in feelings for others, knowing she'd only be let down if she did. Yet she'd betrayed her promise to herself, and worst of all she'd managed to get wrapped up in a man who embodied everything she was trying to avoid. 

A man who carried danger and uncertainty with him like others carried a cell phone. A man who lived half cast in shadow the way she did. A man who wasn't hers for the taking. Michael was everything she knew she didn't need complicating her life, but still her heart longed for more of what she'd experienced with him. 

She began replaying the scene of him leaving over and over in her mind. Asking if she could have done more to make him stay. Telling herself that if he wanted to stick around, he would have. Letting her emotions sink her down to the bottom of a darkened well, full of worry that corrupted the warmth his attention had filled her with.

Desperate to escape herself and storming emotions inside, she immediately began searching for distraction. Scrambling to try and recall the mental list she'd began to make earlier that morning when she thought he'd abandoned her the first time. Needing to find a way to take her focus off on the growing resurgence of negative feelings within.

Determined to hold off the emotions, Cassidy got up from the table, tugged the sagging wide neck of her t-shirt back up to sit on her shoulder properly and hurried upstairs. Disappearing into her study in search of a distraction. 

She wasted no time in trying to bury herself in her work, which had been a reliable source of diversion from her demons since she began to study psychology several years earlier. She plonked down in the firm leather chair and flipped her laptop open on her desk, letting it fire up as she reached into the deep bottom draw of the desk that housed all her clients files. 

A calming static settled over her immediate thoughts as the laptop hummed and she began rummaging through the name tabs looking for the file she was supposed to be updating, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she came to a name she'd almost forgotten about. One that made a rush of nauseating negativity wash through her. She bit her lip, and hesitated for a beat but she was unable to resist pulling the file out, fuelled by some kind of subconscious masochist desire. 

The file belonged to another former patient of doctor Friedlander; a file she'd been passed when his case load had been divided up between Cassidy and another local therapist. She felt she knew the patient in question quite well, despite only having met with her four times since moving to Los Santos. 

The patient in question was an actress, named Kate Miller. A year or so younger than Cassidy was herself. An optimistic -if somewhat naive young- woman who had found herself suffering from anxiety and obsessive compulsive tendencies after being fired from her role on a daytime soap opera. 

If Cassidy recalled correctly the reason she hadn't booked a session in a while was because she was currently away somewhere in eastern Europe on a movie shoot. Cassidy had been concerned for her wellbeing during her trip are prescribed medication to help, insisting that she book an appointment as soon as she returned or called for a telephone consultation if necessary. 

However, now she found herself glad to not have to listen to the actresses problems, since she was embroiled in a torrid affair with a director she'd worked with a year or two earlier. A married director, with a young family and a unassuming wife. 

During the few sessions they'd had together, Cassidy hadn't paid much mind beyond professional interests, to Kate's plight. At the point they'd met she barely knew Michael and her feelings for him hadn't been acknowledged in a way that gave her cause to connect Kate's story to her own, but just seeing the woman's name marked on the tab of the folder at her finger tips made Cassidy's head spin. 

Before she could stop herself from bringing out the file and laying it on her desk. Automatically opening the cover and letting her eyes roam over the summary of the sessions Friedlander had held with her. Heartless words he'd chosen to unsympathetically document the woman's predicament and feelings. 

Harsh, judgemental phrases. The type she was familiar with in so many of Friedlander's notes, but as she flicked through his words, handwritten and typed, to the point where the notes became her own she started to feel nauseous. Words began to pop off the page at her like some kind of bizarre animation. 

Delusional. 

Foolish. 

Desperate. 

Needy. 

Weak. 

Selfish. 

Denial. 

Immoral. 

Self-indulgent. 

She swallowed hard on the guilt that rose up within her, but her eyes kept on reading the way she'd unintentionally echoed Friedlander's judgemental opinions about Kate. Harsh words that popped off the paper into her mind to scold her for how she'd so easily made assumptions about the poor woman's mental state and behaviour, and how she'd foolishly let herself get caught in the same tangled web. 

Over and over again, she felt her stomach swaying inside her. Each negative and cynical description of Kate's mindset whipping her like a belt. Images of the tears she'd shed in her office, all the ways the distraught woman had tried to justify what was going on in her life. Sharing all the lies she'd been told and all the disappointments she'd faced in the clandestine affair she'd fallen into. 

Kate had refused to listen to any kind of reason, of course. Convinced that the man loved her in spite of his continual failure to make good on his promises. Despite constantly dashing her hopes and hurting her over and over again. Almost to the point of stubbornness, she dismissed any suggestion of how unhealthy the relationship was for her and the impact it was having on her mental health. 

Cassidy began flicking faster through the pages, and full sentences began to stand out against the rest of the text. _'Miss Miller exhibits an alarming lack of self awareness and seems to be impervious to any suggestion of the repercussions of her and Jack's affair.'_ Cassidy swallowed hard again, feeling acidity in the back of her throat. Ashamed of herself for writing such things, now she was wearing Kate's shoes. 

Although she knew she didn't yet fully mirror Kate's state of mind, she could already feel herself slipping into the dream like world where Kate lived. A world where she and Michael existed alone. Where she didn't have to consider the feelings of others, where she could indulge herself fully, without fear of consequence. 

Being with Michael was already infecting her with the same virus that Kate was suffering from. One made of foolish hope and delusions that promised somehow everything would work out in their favour if they rode out the storms. Promises, silent and spoken, that assured their relationship would be different. That it would all be worth it. Yet from what she knew of Kate's emotional struggles, it didn't seem likely to be. 

Feeling as if someone had pulled a blindfold off her, Cassidy's ears began to ring and her head swam. How could she have been so foolish to allow herself to fall for him and the perfect illusion his attention had created for her. She should have known better. 

Angry at herself for being something she didn't want to be, Cassidy shut the file, stuffed it back into the draw and slapped her laptop closed. The scent of him left on her skin now seemed almost overpowering. The unwelcome warmth it gave her seemed to try pulling her away from the edge she was teetering on, but the noise in her head simultaneously pushed her ever closer to it. 

Panicked about what she was becoming and the rabbit hole she was slipping into, she clicked into autopilot and flew from her study to set about removing all traces of him from her house. Although parts of her body still hummed from the pleasure she'd enjoyed with him, she knew it wouldn't last. The bubble had burst with his departure, allowing the hardest reality to set in. 

She couldn't let herself become like Kate. She couldn't allow her heart and soul, or her mind to be crushed and mislead as she waited hopelessly for the attentions of another woman's husband. She didn't want to find herself sitting in a therapists office herself, running over all the heartache she was going through for loving a married man. 

It suddenly felt as if she couldn't bear to be reminded of him, or the fact that she'd been the one to help him break his promise to his wife. That she'd consciously allowed herself to become "the other woman" and had thrown her whole career into jeopardy in the process. Thinking of what had happened between them was beginning to make her feel sick. Disappointed in herself for how she'd been trying so hard not to fall, but allowed herself to do it anyways. 

She had to stop the runaway train before it gained too much speed and came off the tracks. She didn't want this to be her undoing. She couldn't stand the idea of sobbing over a man who kept letting her down and manipulating her emotions. _No!_ There would be no more pining and wishing for him to come back right away. She had to put a halt to the way things were going and make damn sure she forgot it ever happened; while making certain to convince herself to not let it ever happen again. 

Determined to build her walls up higher than ever before, she set to work. Stripping down the bed they'd had sex in, before gathering up all the towels out of the bathroom along with the clothes she'd had on while she was near him. Bundling up everything into a large ball, and gathering it all into her arms before fleeing the bedroom. Rushing through the house and down into the garage where she set about piling it all into the washing machine and preparing to rinse him out of her life. 

But she hesitated, becoming aware of how his scent and touch seemed to still linger on the clean underwear and t-shirt she wore. She shook her head, thinking how crazy she was acting, but before she knew what she was doing she was stripping off the clothes she wore - ones that he'd barely touched- and stuffing them into the machine too. Suddenly hating the way his presence seem to linger in the fabric and on her skin too. 

She set the wash cycle off and ran back upstairs to the first floor living room. Not stopping to care for a moment that she was completely naked, as she set about cleaning up all the mess he'd made in attempting to fix the damage he'd caused to her living room wall. 

She tossed all the tools back into the plastic box he'd dragged up from the depths of her garage and hurriedly stuffed them into the small cupboard under the stairs, making a mental note to get to work on fixing the wall herself later that day so she didn't have to look at it, or be reminded of him any further. 

Once her hands were free, she quickly grabbed a new garbage bag from a draw in the kitchen and set about picking up every trace of him from the living room. Putting everything back into the small green first aid bag haphazardly, and tossing all the used cotton wool and bandage packaging into the sack. Rushing back and forth from the kitchen to toss the glass he'd drank from into the sink before pausing for a moment to wonder how she could reorganize the room to break the visions of their encounter from replaying. 

Quickly settling on a plan, she rushed over to the sofa, plumping up all the cushions to remove the indent his body had made, shaking off his presence from them, determined to clear her life of any trace of Michael De Santa once and for all, but something caught her eye. The dark grey shirt he'd been wearing when he showed up was still draped over the back of the couch. 

She froze in place, her eyes focusing immediately on the bloodied sleeve. Remembering the possibility of him getting hurt while out there attending to Trevor's demands. Feeling the breath get snatched out of her lungs, she reached out and picked up the shirt. Not stopping for even a beat to consider what she was doing as she examined it. Looking over the upper part of the sleeve that was stained with dried blood, recalling the morning he'd come into her office with a questionable stain on the sleeve of his suit jacket too. 

There was no damage other than staining to the fabric, which told her he'd changed clothes between her house and the job he'd pulled off. She wondered if he stopped home first, washed and disposed of whatever he'd been wearing when he'd been shot. Or had it been taken off and stuffed into a random garbage can in a back alleyway before he'd made his getaway? Was DNA evidence of his crimes still out there somewhere, waiting to fall into the wrong hands. 

She shook her head. Daring not to think about the risks his lifestyle bought for him or herself. Afraid to consider what danger he was presently putting himself into and reluctant to let herself be sympathetic to the man she needed to eject from her life. 

With worry trembling in her stomach, she impulsively bought the shirt up to her nose and breathed him in deeply. Finding herself comforted by the scent of his faded cologne that lingered best around the collar. She closed her eyes tightly and breathed again, looking deep inside herself for comfort and a reason to believe that her gut feeling was wrong. 

Desperate to find something that counteracted all her anxieties and offered assurance that he'd been honest with her. A sign that would say she'd got it all wrong. Needing a promise or assurance that he would come back afterall. That a guilty conscience or a disgruntled diamond buyer wouldn't get in the way of what she knew she wanted so badly in her heart of hearts.

She almost lost herself in the silent search for hope, but her defences locked down again. Forcing her to pull the shirt away and look at it with distain, as if it was nothing more than a remnant of her foolish mistake. 

Frustrated through the lack of reassurances, she screwed it up in her hands and turned to look for where she'd dropped the garbage bag she'd been busily filling. Spotting it on the other side of the coffee table, hanging open waiting for her to throw the shirt in. Instinctively, she raised her arm to toss it but she hesitated. 

She tried to ask herself why, but she didn't want to know where to start. She was too afraid of her reasons for wanting to keep it, and before she could let logic or negativity encourage her to throw it out -like she knew she should have- she stuffed it down behind the sofa cushions. Hiding it away like a dirty little secret, one that she was so desperate to get free from yet still afraid to be rid of. 

Before she could talk herself into changing her mind, she got up and quickly began to pull the sofa across the room. Shoving and tugging as best she could to bring it over closer to the counter that divided the living and dining areas and turning it to face the patio doors. She then quickly shoved the loveseat into the sofa's previous location opposite the fire place and drew the chaise longue up to the windows and angled it neatly. Dusting off her hands, once she was confident that the room looked different enough to help her avoid replaying the night before over and over again. 

Next she turned her attentions to a large canvas painting that she'd propped against a bookshelf, snatching it up and hurrying over to the fireplace and propping it up on the mantle to cover the hole that he'd left behind. Satisfied it would do the job, before padding over to the cold kitchen floor to gather up everything from their breakfast together.

She washed the plates furiously and cleaned every trace that she'd ever cooked from him away from the kitchen. Drying everything and hiding it all away in the cupboards again, so she didn't have to see or think of anything to do with him unless she chose to. Not taking a second to stop to think about how crazy she was acting, or if it was right or wrong to feel the way she did. 

By the time she was done foolishly messing around, the only thing left to do was clean the shower and bathroom. Feeling niggling thoughts and the emotional gyer widening in her stomach, she rushed upstairs and set to work. Scrubbing the shower tiles he'd pressed her against and spraying cleaner all around the place, before using copious amounts of water to wash the invisible traces of their intimacy down the drain. 

A tender voice inside her head told her to calm down, assured her that she was totally overreacting and being ridiculous, but she didn't care to listen. She needed to wipe her slate clean and push out every last trace of him that he'd left _before_ he could prove her concerns right and dash the hopes he'd helped her raise. 

Once she was done cleaning, she stepped back to take a look around the sparkling clean bathroom. All her efforts had done little to hide her memories, or disguise the reality of what their actions meant for her future, and his. 

There was no amount of cleaning and shifting furniture around that would erase the fact she'd let herself fall for a married man, and worse - a patient. She began to feel crushed by the weight of everything. Asking herself how she could she have been so stupid to open herself up to so much hurt and damage to on every imaginable scale from emotional to professional. 

How the hell had she let herself believe they could be anything more than just one night? Just enough for him to satisfy his lust and curiosity, before going back to his real life. How had she let herself come to want more of him with every piece of himself he offered to her. How had this man who was so complicated and frustrating stolen her heart as easily as he stole diamonds. 

Fighting back tears and thoughts that tried to scream out "idiot", she decided if cleaning wouldn't help, she'd try exercise instead. She hurried into her bedroom and began to pull out a pair of neoprene shorts and crop top. A run for a few miles along the beach would clear her head, and ending it with a swim would wash the last traces of him away. Then maybe she'd be able to survive the night if he proved her fears valid by not returning. 

Even as she dressed she could still feel the ghost of his touch all over her. The memory of the pleasure he'd filled her body with. She wanted to hate it, and she tried to dig deeply enough to find disgust for how she felt, but she couldn't, and that made her all the more angry and bitter for being such a fool. A fool for letting herself want something so forbidden and dangerous. 

Once dressed, with her sneakers laced she headed to the bedroom door, hesitating for a moment to look back at her linen-less bed, to see an image of her sitting in the middle of the mattress, telling him about her past so carelessly. 

All the dark secrets she'd tried so hard to put behind her. How could she have been stupid enough to let herself trust someone like him? A cheater. A criminal. A con artist. Liar. Manipulator. A man who would make her believe anything in order to get what he wanted. A man that could make her wish so hard for a life with him that she could surely never have. 

"You're a fuckin' idiot" she told herself bitterly, refusing to acknowledge all the good that had actually happened there. The perfect moments of tenderness and wonderful sensation she'd experienced while locked away with him in that room. 

She couldn't stand to remember any of it, knowing it was likely to never happen again, and even if it did - it would just make everything so much worse. The more time they spent together the closer she'd become to being her client Kate, with no hope of redemption. 

She noted the time and saw it was barely past noon, even if she ran half way to Del Perro, by the time she got back it'd still be too early to start drinking but she could drag things out. There was plenty still to do, even after a swim and if none of the physical distractions helped then she knew a little hard liquor would make her forget him. At least she'd then be numb enough to not feel anything as the hours rolled by and he didn't return to her. 

She set off for the sand in the muted afternoon sun, holding a hope in her heart that the endorphins exercise released would help her numb her feelings and allow her to convince herself that she never really wanted what he was offering. 

If that didn't work, then maybe later on in a state of drunkenness she'd find some clarity and strength to really believe that she needed to push back on the plays he made. Lock him out of her life and resist falling under his spell and all the promises his presence had made her. She had to be positive and believe that something she tried would be successful in cutting out the piece of her heart that longed to be with him once more. 

The miles began to roll by under the wheels of Michael's Tailgater, as he forced himself to remain focused on what needed to be done and not what he'd rather be doing. 

He knew the state he'd called home for ten years well enough to have mentally plotted a course direct from Cassidy's house out to the Grand Senora Desert, via the twisting roads of the Tongva Hills. Certain he'd easily be able to zip across country that way, and to get out to MacKenzie airfield and back again in no time at all. 

As he put the ocean in his rearview and began the ascent up the twisty road through the rolling hills, he passed by the biggest and fanciest house San Andreas had to over, that side of Lake Vinewood. The one that used to belong to his nemesis Devin Westin. 

As he sped past Michael noticed a 'For Sale' sign had sprung, stabbed into the front hedgerow and the sight alone almost made Michael smile to himself. If he'd been callous enough he would have considered putting in an offer for the place himself. The view was perfect and so was the location in proximity to Cassidy. Also knowing that Devin's ghost would never rest in peace with him owning the place was an attractive selling point, but he wasn't keen on keeping any reminders of that time in his life. 

Although he was oddly grateful to Devin for helping him secure his job with Solomon Richards, he was keen to put that chapter of his life behind him. It had been complete and utter chaos, that had almost cost him his own life and the lives of his family.

 _His family._ Shit! 

He'd almost forgotten about them. 

A deep sinking feeling erupted in his stomach; a sense of guilt trying to coax him out from under the last remnants of the contentment he'd found in Cassidy's company. He wondered for a moment if his kids were okay and a light chill of concern skittered through him at the thought of what they could be up to at that exact moment. 

He thought it was safe to guess that Jimmy was still locked away in his room insulting his gaming buddies, or perhaps out buying drugs to help him pass his solitary days? Maybe Tracey at home too, exercising frantically in front of the television, or gossiping on her cellphone in her room? Of course he would prefer she was doing that, rather than being out somewhere doing things he couldn't bring himself to even think of. 

Trying not to wonder too long on what trouble his wayward daughter was getting into on that particular day, he considered his wife for a moment instead. He rarely ever had an idea of where she was, or more importantly - who she was with. Not that he cared anymore. He'd given up worrying about Amanda's activities years earlier, knowing that she wouldn't tell him the whole truth of what she'd been up to, even if he begged her for it. 

Somehow he'd trained himself to care less and less over the years. Steering himself away from instinctively looking for causes for concern, unless of course they crossed right in front of him. Life was more peaceful that way, and it kept his blood pressure at a healthy level. 

He feared it was a little selfish to lock down his over-protective nature, but he knew he couldn't keep jumping at the first sniff of trouble circling his family. After so many years of being on guard it was purely self preservation to keep his attentions away from all their minor ups and downs. Reserving his energies for when the storms actually made landfall. 

Years earlier when he'd be out of town taking scores he'd lay awake worrying about them all, hoping they were safe and happy without him. Longing for the chance to make changes to ensure he was around to keep an eye on them, but as soon as he'd been able to do so and become a permanent and active part of their lives, it was already too late. His hopes had been fulfilled - they'd become happy without him, and even though he tried, it seemed there was no way of turning back the clock. 

His kids had grown up far too fast and his wife hadn't struggled to find comfort in other men's arms. While he was out risking his life trying to make money, they'd moved on to different things without him. Changed into people he didn't recognize anymore, and people he didn't much like. 

Los Santos was supposed to fix everything, get his family back in the way he'd always dreamed, but instead it just pushed them all further apart. The gap between them bought him only more and more lonely days, getting drunk by the pool or losing himself in front of an old movie. Each failed attempt to make amends or build a stronger connection weakening his determination to hold his family together. 

He knew it was wrong to consider giving up trying, but he couldn't see the point of fighting a losing battle anymore. He knew somewhere deep inside they all loved him, but they didn't care enough to keep him in the forefront of their minds. He was still just the person they ran to for money, not comfort and companionship the way he hoped they one day would. 

He'd learned long ago that worrying about them never bought him any thanks, as in return they barely even cast him a second's though, nevermind a note of worry. That had been proven once again by the fact that Trevor's angry telephone call was the only contact he'd had with the world outside of Cassidy's house. He'd been there with her for almost twelve hours, but he'd been missing from home for near twenty-four and still no-one had reached out to check in with him. 

There was a time when that would have hurt him deeply, but his skin had grown too thick to be bruised by the disappointing lack of love and concern from those he still held dear. He knew all too well that if ever they had a problem, he'd be the first person they would call to come fix it, and until they did that, he was determined not to worry. The night before and that morning had showed him there was so much more out there for the taking, and he was going to indulge himself and enjoy the distance for once. He wasn't going to feel guilty about it in the way he would always used to. 

He was tired of spending his days home alone beating himself up about his bad choices, failures and shortcomings while his family just got on with their lives, regardless of the mistakes they made themselves. Things were supposed to change for them all, time and time again, but they never did. The reconciliation had only temporarily revived his marriage, and not even the lure of a glamorous life with Vinewood connections was enough to keep his kids interested in him. 

He knew there had to come a point where he drew a line under everything. He couldn't keep repeating the same pattern over and over again until he died. He wanted more out of the life he had left. He was tired of going home after work to silence or disinterest, sitting alone watching television alone or read scripts. Trying to distract himself from the emptiness of his large house that was filled with life but lacked so much soul. 

For years he'd ached to find something more than what he had in the four walls of his house, and a few months earlier he thought he'd found that in producing movies but it only came half way to fulfilling him. 

He loved every second of his work at the studio, mingling with actors and creative types all day long. Even the tedious meeting and the costly dinners and lunches, that forced him to tap into his old repertoire of schmoozing his way around people to get what he needed from them. He loved playing a role like the actors he admired, saying the lines he'd written for himself in a script designed just to win people over or solve problems the problems Richard's Majestic faced. 

All his years of running cons had perfected his charm and darker skills to help him get the toughest directors and script writers wrapped around his little finger, and his achievements had already earned him much praise around Vinewood. And boy, how he loved being someone people seemed to admire. Someone who people came to for valued input and assistance. It made him feel appreciated in a way he'd never felt before.

Every second he was working he felt satisfied and content in the way he'd always dreamed of, but the moment he stepped away from his role at the studio and pulled up through the gates of his driveway - he'd feel himself slip back to being the same guy he was before he met Solomon. The normal, boring, stuck-in-a-rut, wannabe family man who'd suppressed every positive and fun side of himself, letting all he was waste away to a shell of himself over ten depressing years. 

The instant he walked through his front door and straight into the yelling and sniping between his family, all the praise he'd heard at work drained out of his head. Only to be replaced by the familiar gloomy cloud he'd lived under for so many years. 

Whether he spent one hour at home, or twenty-four, he always found himself counting the minutes until he could go back to work, or checking his phone in the hopes of getting a call from someone asking for his help with yet another Vinewood drama. Feeling the disappointment dig in deeper whenever his notifications remained empty. 

In the silent periods when all was well at the studio he found his thoughts turned to craving a better life outside of work. Longing for something that could complete the perfect picture he was beginning to paint through his career. _Someone_ that would make him feel as full and content as he did at work; another soul that he could come home to and who would be pleased to have him there. 

He felt sadness for the way it seemed that he'd found what he needed months earlier, when he'd reconciled with his wife but the perfect family image hadn't been meant to last. The tenderness and affection they had shown one another was merely a stay of execution. Years of animosity had ensured that every element of their marriage had an expiry date, the sex, their affection, their trust, their fidelity, their love. The ground was salted and nothing more could grow from it. 

There'd been several times since he'd met Amanda when he'd been convinced himself to believe he was happy and in love with his wife, and that she felt the same way for him. Times that his kids had seemed to love him and want for his attention too, but those times never lasted. It never took long for an argument to start. The pettiest of things triggering bigger arguments that unearthed deeper issues that everyone had been hiding. 

One word spoken in the wrong tone, or a look cast at the wrong angle always bought days of the silent treatment which then came to a head with a huge fight. Years of mistakes thrown back in his face. Harsh words tossed carelessly until the tears began to fall. Then the empty promises followed and they'd all patch things up, just enough to hold together until the next time something upset the uneasy balance of the De Santa household. 

Of course he was no fool, he knew well enough it could go the very same way with Cassidy in time. If it didn't all burn out before it even got started, but inside he already knew this time was going to be different. _It had to be!_

Everything she'd shown him right from the very start said she wouldn't be like the others that had been in his life. He was convinced something inside him had instinctively known all along that she'd been the one to break the cycle he was trapped in. 

The first time he'd laid eyes on her he'd been captivated and every time he'd seen her thereafter he'd felt enraptured further. He hadn't been able to put his finger on what it was about her, but he could feel something deep inside that promised their connection was special and worth fighting for. 

He wasn't afraid to admit that he'd always been the kind of guy who felt a little intimidated by smart women. Funny or tough women too. Around them he always used to play it cool as ice, a little detached and outwardly relaxed while his mind spun like a hamster in a wheel. 

He'd always been uncertain of how to handle the uneasy attractions he felt towards women like her; ones who made him think, laugh and fear for the safety of his genitals in equal measure. But there was nothing uneasy about his attraction towards Cassidy, even though she ticked all the boxes as the type of woman he always felt was out of his league. Instead, she'd implanted a desperate desire within him to do whatever it took to win her over. 

She was all those things he'd been wary of before, but this time there was no strength in him to act cool about it. He already knew he was crazy about her, and had been for weeks. She was everything he wanted and all the things he hadn't realized he needed too. 

Her ability to make him laugh like few had ever done before was priceless to him. Also he knew it would be a lie to say he didn't get the strangest of kicks out of knowing she was academically smarter than him by miles, with letters after her name to prove it. He wouldn't have been surprised to find that she was smarter when it came to the streets too. It was obvious she had to be tougher, and quicker, and braver as a woman in the criminal world than he ever had to be as a man. 

She seemed to be so many things all at once, and she mesmerized him with the way and her character complimented all the sides of his own personality so well. Sides of himself that he thought had died during his years of isolation, but he could already feel her bringing them back to life. 

It gave him such a buzz to have finally seen her private persona. How underneath her outward hardness she was soft and tender. Strong and independent -perhaps to a fault- yet she seemed to need love and intimacy just as badly as he did. She'd shown him how kind, lovingly and attentive she was, letting him tap back into that long neglected side of himself too. 

Even in the few precious hours they'd had together as more than doctor and patient, she'd already shown him how perfect things could be between them, and the thrill he got from her company was like a drug.

Strangely of all, above all his desires for her and subconscious hopes for the future, he felt the oddest and best feeling of all. It was a feeling of admiration and respect. Respect for all she'd been through, and admiration for all she managed to be. She set an example to him. Showing him just by existing how it was possible to get out of a bad life and make yourself a better person. Burn it all down and rebuild. How to reinvent yourself and do the impossible by becoming the exact opposite of what came naturally. 

It felt bizarre to feel as if he admired her as much as he hungered for her -maybe even more so- but that told him whatever they had was special, and that it would be worth every fight he'd have to take on. There was something about her that made him feel so alive, and deep inside he knew that if he did right by her, he'd get everything the movies had promised him was out there. Everything and much more. 

As countryside whipped past his windows, he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead but his mind couldn't be shaken from thoughts Cassidy. The low hum of the engine let him drift off into indulging himself in thinking about what they could get up to once he'd dealt with business. Hoping for the chance to get to know her even better. Ask her the questions he was itching to have answered and get another chance to hold her close and feel the love and warmth resonating off her. 

He couldn't wait to pick up exactly where they'd left off on the bed either. He tingled at the very idea of finally being able to taste her for the first time. After weeks of imaging using his mouth on her, it felt surreal to know he now had the chance to. 

His body drifted into autopilot as he followed the quiet, twisting roads that cut through the states finest vineyards. Resisting the urge to overtake Sunday drivers as his mind escaped away from focusing on the ribbon of black asphalt and back into his fantasies. Replaying the night before and feeling a warm and full sensation that resonated deep within him as he pictured her naked again, for the first time with an accurate image to draw from. 

He thought about the way she rode him, how her nails clawed at his arms and back. How she looked so deep into his eyes and made him feel like he was the only thing in the world that mattered to her. How well she fit him and how good her body felt wrapped up in his. The sounds she made when she climaxed around him, and how those noises had filled him with such a sense of pride and confidence. 

His head started to get hazy with desire but as he reached the end of the winding roads and pulled up at an intersection where the lush green trees and fields began to turn into dust and sand, his thoughts passed back to the secrets she'd revealed to him in the darkness of her bedroom. 

Troubled by the recollection, he hesitated too long at the stop sign, causing the driver behind him to honk his horn to urge him along. Shocked back to the task at hand, Michael cursed the unseen driver, and swung the car right. Heading straight for where he knew Trevor was waiting, as his mind carried on running over the facts Cassidy had given him in the darkness. 

That morning when he'd woken up he could think of nothing but how she was still technically on the run, and probably in fear for her life. He knew how terrible that felt, and as he watched her sleep he'd considered every possible scenario of her past catching up to her, and what he could do to prevent it. Hoping he had it in him to help protect her and heal her too, in the way she already seemed to be doing for him. 

However those thoughts focused solely on the potential dangers of her past life and hadn't allowed him a moment to over-think about her sexual past. 

Yet as he drove along the dusty roads he couldn't fight his curiosity from slipping into unexplored territory. Recalling how she'd mentioned having a girlfriend back in New Austin. _Was she a lesbian?_ No, she couldn't have been if she was into him. _Bi-sexual then?_ He couldn't be sure. 

His stomach felt heavy as he considered all the beautiful women in Los Santos. All the women she could have her pick of and be tempted away with. All the men too for that matter. From the over inflated body builders in Vespucci to the fashionable hipsters, like the guy he'd almost flattened outside her office a few weeks earlier. There was so much opportunity and temptation out there for her, double the amount there would be for anyone else. 

His mind began to tear him out of the warm glow he was surrounded by, pushing him instead in two different directions. One full of worry for how effortlessly she could find another lover. Someone more worthy of her beautiful body and interesting soul than he was. The other side of his mind brimming with lust at the thought of her being with another woman. How sexy two girls were together and how it could have meant that no man had touched what he wanted to be his and only his. 

His mind then flashed back to the night they'd fought outside the bar on Vinewood Boulevard. The guy she'd been on a date with. Was that their first date? Had she been seeing him for longer? _Had they fucked already?_ Had she bought that box of condom with another guy in mind? Was it the first pack she'd bought since moving there, or the second, or third? Had that stranger, or another, lay on the same patch of her mattress as he had the night before? 

He felt his body go ridged with unease, almost to the point of breaking a sweat and he groaned. Angry with how he was letting himself get so twisted and wrapped up in his own head again. He had to keep his mind on the job, get ready for facing down one of the most dangerous criminals south of the border had to offer. 

He couldn't get eaten up by worry about what may or may not have happened before he and Cassidy had united. There would be plenty of time to ask her about her past, if he dared to find out. There would be plenty of time to worry about all the people in her life too. Sooner or later his appeal to her would wear thin, just like everyone before her, and he couldn't be by her side all the time. Sooner or later, he'd have to go home. 

Home. _Ugh!_

His heart suddenly felt like a brick in his chest, but he refused to get pulled back down by foolish worries and shook them from his head. Clicking into his stoic and professional mode, where he spent most of his working life living, he pressing the gas pedal a little harder. Deciding the quicker he took care of business and got back to Cassidy the quicker he could find out more about her and discover for sure if there was as big a future for them as he'd hoped. 

He flicked on the radio for distraction from his thoughts and pushed little harder still on the gas. Whipping past the delightfully dilapidated town of Sandy Shores -where he'd once spent an enforced vacation- and along the desolate rural road towards the ramshackle airfield Trevor now owned and operated out of. 

Almost as soon as he pulled off the smooth road and onto the bumpy dirt track that lead behind the hanger to the runway, he spotted Trevor's sun-bleached red truck. It was parked at an angle across the end of the landing strip, several feet away from where two shiny black SUV's waited, with a set of angry looking black suits flanking them. 

Taking a deep -anxious- breath, Michael pulled up just behind Trevor's truck and killed the engine. Savouring a quiet moment and the chance to assess the situation through the windshield, as his friend flamboyantly interacted with the suited goons, making Michael shake his head in distain. He didn't need to hear what was being said to know that Trevor was goading the men into blowing up on him. 

Groaning with concern for the trouble that was about to befall him, Michael reached over to the passenger side footwell and pulled a handgun from the duffle bag. Tucking it roughly into the back of his jeans, then smoothing out his leather jacket over the bag and passenger seat to hide the gems from prying eyes before opening the door to get out. 

The instant he stepped into the hazy sun he could feel the tension of the situation in front of him. Instinct made him check behind his back that the t-shirt he wore covered the gun well enough, as his eyes found Trevor, angry storming his way over to him. 

"What the hell took ya?" he barked, arms swinging as he marched closer. "This guy's gonna be here any second!" 

"Chill out." Michael insisted coolly. "I'm here ain't I?" 

Trevor stopped abruptly in front of Michael's car and scowled at him across the hood. Suspiciously eyeing him up and down for a moment, as he shamelessly scratched himself through the crotch of his grubby sweatpants. 

Michael gave a heavy sigh, he knew his friend had something to say and would keep staring until he was encouraged to spit it out. Swallowing a groan, he slammed the driver's door shut and cocked his head to the side expectantly. "Whut?" 

"You look weird." 

"Thanks, Trev." Michael snarked, rolling his eyes casually, while internally panicking that his friend could see his secret lit up over his head like a neon sign. It sometimes seemed like Trevor had a sixth sense for sniffing out things he wasn't supposed to. 

"Where were ya?" Trevor asked, as Michael rounded the rear of the car to get to the passenger side. Taking a few moments to cool down his face away from Trevor's eyes, as he crept uncomfortably close to the target side of the car. 

"Busy. What's it to ya?" Michael gave back, popping the passenger door open, trying to hold his temper from flaring. Knowing he needed to control his attitude or risk Trevor latching on to something being amiss. 

"What? Can't your best friend ask what you've been up to?" Trevor poked, stepping up so close that only the car door separated them. "Why so defensive, Mikey, huh?" he asked, prodding Michael's shoulder. 

"Fuck you." Michael dismissed, taking a step back to give himself room to breathe and so Trevor couldn't smell the sweat running down his back. 

"You ran off pretty quick there last night. Gave me the impression you had somewhere to be."

"Yeah, home - with my family." Michael lied. 

"Oh-oh-woah-ho! _Really?_ " he grabbed fistfuls of air enthusiastically. "That's funny, 'cause er...I stopped in on my way out here to pick you up and Jim said he hadn't seen you since yesterday afternoon."

Michael narrowed his eyes, feeling the internal heat of interrogation but managing to keep his outward cool. "What the fuck is this, T? You ain't my keeper."

"I am when you're sitting on a haul of diamonds worth three mil." Trevor snapped but the intensity in his eyes shifted with recollection. "Speakin' of....where are they?"

"Safe. In the car." Michael nodded to his left, and Trevor glanced into the car to be certain. 

"Good! I was worried you mighta left them behind at a hookers house or something." 

"Shut the fuck up, T." Michael growled. "I wasn't with a hooker, _or a stripper_ , before you say it." 

"But you were with someone, right?" Trevor asked, his eyes suddenly alive with curiosity as he began to prowl around Michael, examining him from every angle. "You're wearing the same clothes from last night, but you're missing a shirt." he noted, recalling that Michael had changed into a grey button up after the job, but now was only wearing a black t-shirt. 

"Not that I have to answer to you, but I spilled coffee on it and took it off at the studio." Michael offered, hoping to mislead Trevor far enough away from picking up on the scent of Cassidy which he felt still lingered on him. "Where I was.... _working_. You know, 'cause I actually have a real job now."

"Bull-shit!" Trevor spat. "Playing lackey to a decrepit old letch ain't a real job."

Michael's anger flared, furious that his friend was disrespecting his mentor and idol. "Fuck you!" he shot, pointing angrily. "I'm Solomon's assistant, not his fuckin' errand boy." 

"Psssht!" Trevor waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, sugar tits!" 

"I've got two producer credits to my name too." Michael added proudly. "Which you'd know of if you gave a shit about anythin' other than causin' trouble and gettin' high as fuck."

"The only two things that matter in life, Mikey. There was a time when you felt that way too."

"Yeah, but I grew out of it." Michael insisted, poking himself in the check. "I grew up." His tone faintly hinted that he wasn't as convinced of his own words as he wanted to seem. 

"No, you grew _out_. You fat fuck!" 

"You mother fu-" Michael, made a step towards Trevor but his anger was halted by the sound of a plane's engine approaching overhead.

"Ah," Trevor cheered. "This lover's quarrel will have to wait for a bit, but I'm fucking on to you, _Townley_."

"The fuck you mean, _'onto me'_?" he asked gruffly. "There ain't nothin' for you to be _on_ to." 

"You're guilty as shit and up to something. I know you." Trevor warned, stabbing his finger at him and Michael shook his head frustrated. Fighting the urge to starting pacing as his level of anxiety and annoyance racked up several notches. . 

"Mind your business, Trevor." he warned.

"You are my business, Mikey. It's about time you accepted that!"

"Jesus fuckin' Christ." Michael muttered, as Trevor drifted off to go welcome their esteemed guest. 

Michael made a mental note to keep one eye in his rearview mirror on the way home to Cassidy; half expecting Trevor to follow him all the way back to Chumash just to find out what he was hiding. 

Pushing back his concerns about the future, Michael focused on the present. Standing up a little straighter and rounding the passenger door to stand leaning against the side of the hood as the small private jet came into land. 

He guessed he should of been out upfront besides Trevor but he was struggling to set his mind to business knowing that his old buddy was prying into things that didn't concern him. He knew if he got too close Trevor would use the few remaining moments before the buyer came over to keep digging, so he held back. Telling himself to stand a little taller and puff out his chest some to make an outward show of confidence to ensure the buyer didn't try and pull any shit. 

Relieved to have a few moments to gather his thoughts, he watched silently as Trevor gave his standard colourful welcome to the drug lord who'd flown up from Mexico to collect the diamond haul in person. A short, rotund man with greying hair and a expensive suit kept a healthy distance from Trevor as he followed him over to Michael with the wall of black suits tailing close behind. 

"Michael. This is Javier, he's a big fan of expensive little rocks." Michael gave a curt nod to the man he had no reason to show any further respect to. Struggling to get a good look at him for the way the sun reflected off the thick gold chains that were draped around the man's neck and wrist. "Show him what he wants to see. C'mon. Look alive, pork chop!"

Michael cut Trevor a sour glare, holding it for a threatening beat before re-opening the passenger door to his car and crouching in to grab for the duffle bag. Pulling it up onto the driver's seat but taking it no further as he looked over to the buyer suspiciously. 

"Let's see the colour of ya money first." he insisted. 

Javier waved over his shoulder and one of his men came rushing forward with a silver attaché case, and opened it up to show the wads of green notes inside. "It's all there." Javier insisted. 

"It better be." Michael said confidently, not fazed by the level of power the man before him held. 

"You can count it if you like." Javier offered, his stare turning slightly combative. 

"That's not necessary." Trevor stepped in. "We're all friends here. We've done business before. Javier is a stand up guy, Michael." he insisted. "Despite all the drug dealing, human trafficking, decapitations and general warfare south of the border."Javier gave Trevor a slicing look and he immediately shut up. "Hand 'em over, Mikey." Trevor insisted gesturing back to his friend. 

Reluctant but eager to get things over with, Michael pulled the bag out and handed it over to another one of the black suits as Trevor accepted the money case. "You need a receipt?" Trevor joked, with his usual brand of weird frenetic energy. 

"No thank you, Mr Philips. I know where you live, that's receipt enough." Javier insisted, and Michael and Trevor passed one another a mildly concerned look. 

Without another word, their business concluded and Javier followed his men back across the runway to climbed into one of the waiting SUV's. Trevor waved goodbye enthusiastically, making Michael wonder if he was making a mockery of the situation or genuinely trying to give a good impression to the drug lord. 

"Well, I guess that's that." Michael said once all the black suits and sunglasses had bundled back into their cars, and the plane was turning around to take off again. "I hope I can trust you to take that to Lester?" he asked, gesturing to the case Trevor held onto with a death grip. 

"Of-fuckin'-course." he sang. 

"Good." Michael nodded, a sense of intoxicating relief washing over him to know another dirty deed had been signed off as complete, without any major dramas. "And don't give him any shit, Trevor. I mean it. He's not well."

"But he asks for it, Mikey. Ole' Fuckin' Wheels! He brings it out of me." Trevor exclaimed, thrusting into the air enthusiastically. 

Michael closed his eyes and asked whoever it was _up there_ who still listened to him for a little extra strength and tolerance. Considering the fact his old friend seemed to be high as a kite, he worried it wasn't the best idea to entrust him with such a huge amount of money but as foolish as it seemed, he trusted Trevor to take proper care of any job he was tasked with, regardless of his level of sobriety. 

"Don't worry, buddy." Trevor spoke again. "I'll get this to him, so you can go back to banging your hooker...or was it a stripper?"

"Fuck you!" Michael hissed, showing Trevor the finger which only elicited a smug chuckle from Trevor.

"Don't do anything, or _anyone_ , I wouldn't do, Mikey." Trevor insisted as he turned on his heel and made a start for his truck. 

"Trevor, I pride myself on not doing anything _you'd_ do." 

Trevor turned back to face him but carried on walking away backwards. "When did you get so boring?" 

"About fifteen years before you even noticed." Michael threw back at him, and Trevor gave a bark of laughter before turning back and carelessly tossing the case over into the flatbed before jumping in behind the wheel. 

Michael winced, instantly regretting his decision to trust Trevor with the money. Having visions of the case coming undone and spilling millions of dollars onto the freeway. "Jesus fuckin' Christ" he muttered to himself, as he shut the passenger door and headed back around to get into the car again as Trevor fired up his engine and made a start for the main road. 

Swallowing down his concern for the money in his friend's care, Michael quickly followed Trevor's truck out of the airfield, and tailed him along the picturesque rural road that overlooked the Alamo Sea. Keeping a cars length behind him until they reached the intersection. One way which could take him deep into the desert again, and ultimately back to warmth of Cassidy. Or left out to the civilization of the freeway and home to the coldness of solitude with his family.

Michael felt a strange sense of unease as Trevor's left blinker came on, showing his intent to head back in the direction of the city. A flurry of thoughts swirled through Michael's head, some semblance of his conscience trying to convince him to follow his friend home. Knowing he should have made sure Lester received the money and feeling like he should at least go and check that everything was alright with his family, but before he could make a conscious choice he was already pulling right away from Trevor, instinctively heading west back across the state to Cassidy.

Relieved by intuition making the choice for him, Michael glanced back in his rearview where he could just make out the red truck with Trevor inside. From what he could see it looked as if his friend was leaning in to get a good look in his own rear mirror too. Probably questioning where on earth Michael was going and why he wasn't heading back to the city right behind him. 

Concerned that Trevor would pull a sudden U-turn and chase after him, Michael pressed his foot down on the gas hard, determined to put some distance between the two of them. Trying his best to convincing himself not to worry about Trevor's interest in his private life, instead focusing on what needed to be done to fulfil his promises to Cassidy. 

He needed to make a quick stop at the hardware store in Chumash before returning to her. Pick up a few things to fix her wall and maybe grab a change of clothes from the Sub Urban out there too. It was time he'd lose with Cassidy of course, but he knew it provide the perfect excuse and diversion if Trevor managed to catch up to him. 

As he put more and more miles under his wheels, he tried to tell himself to believe that his secret love was safe from the biggest mouth in the state. However, a little voice at the back of his mind -one which had known Trevor for almost thirty years- warned that the man's bloodhound like senses had already picked up on a scent, and Michael knew Trevor would follow it until he found the prey he'd become hungry for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it, Trevor has officially entered the story. I really do hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and his first of several appearances yet to come. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading! :o)
> 
> Oh and if you're interested....[here are some pictures I put together to help visualize one particular scene. ](http://milliondollarmangta.tumblr.com/post/166727417170/michael-has-to-leave-cassidy-and-attend-to)


	33. New Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Time has gotten away from me yet again, and I apologize for going so long without an update. I cannot believe how fast this year has gone, it's scary! 
> 
> Huge thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos on the last chapter, you all bring me so much happiness. It means the world to see your love for my work and it really does keep me going, especially through the harder chapters to write - of which this was one. 
> 
> Anyways, I just wanted to take the chance to wish you all a wonderfully happy holiday season. And I hope that this mammoth chapter will tide you over until I can bring you the next one in early 2018. :o) 
> 
> Oh, and I also made a huge post about Michael, detailing all the facts and tidbits in the game (that most people miss) which have all gone towards helping me on my quest to write his complicated ass, somewhat coherently haha! If you want to check it out, you can find it here - [**A Definitive Guide To Michael De Santa**](http://miss-oscurita.tumblr.com/post/167464410593/a-definitive-guide-to-michael-townleyde-santa)
> 
> Enjoy!

_"I feel drawn to revolving doors,_  
_It makes it easy to get back to where I was before._  
_I'm an optimist when I forget to be a realist at times like these,_  
_With a little time we'll find out why,_  
_What we already knew._

_Show me the brighter side,_  
_The one where we both make it out alright._  
_I feel like it'll all work out this time,_  
_If we lean towards the brighter side."_

**[The Brighter Side by Averi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PH8RJ27gwO4)**

 

Sure enough, just as Cassidy had feared, by the time the sun was starting to set there was still no sign of Michael. She had tried her absolute best to distract herself by any means necessary, forcing herself not to think about where he was and what he was doing. 

Yet as the hours went on, she couldn't resist mentally plotting out all of the possible airfield locations across the state; calculating in her mind how long it should have taken for him to get out to any one of them and back again. Even if she was being generous in allowing him plenty of time to do whatever deal he was making, and queue up in traffic and take the long way back - he still should have been there with her already. 

It was beginning to seem painfully obvious that he wasn't coming back. That he'd gone home to his family, just as he should. Or perhaps gone on to forget his mistakes by getting drunk and finding his way into bed with someone else, hoping that one mistake would wash away another. 

It strangely felt easier to think of him betraying her in such a way; it kept her mind off thinking of more distressing alternatives. She was too scared to dwell on the possibility that his absence could be explained by the deal going wrong. Potentially leaving him out there in the middle of nowhere, hurt... _or worse_.

Her stomach felt sick as a toxic mix of emotions blended to curdle in her stomach. She hated herself for getting so caught up in her emotions. Letting losses in her past dictate how she handled new relationships and scenarios. Letting the ghosts of old wounds steer her away from the light of hope and back into the darkness of fearing the worst about everything. 

Each time she tugged her mind from focusing on one negative, jumped on to another. Constantly switching between bitterness over him leaving, worry for where he was and fear of what he was doing. Tied up in knots by a sense of loss, frustration for her own stupidity of falling for him, guilt for sleeping with a married man, and the disappointment of it being over. 

Swimming hadn't helped soothe her any, and neither had the scolding hot shower she'd sat in for almost an hour. At some point though, she'd found her way to pouring a glass of wine and taking a seat out on the patio. Trying her hardest not to listen to the voices in her head who reminded her of the grim possibilities and her foolish mistakes. 

With each sip of wine she desperately tried to mentally rebuild the walls he'd knocked down in her head, the ones that kept all her neurosis contained. Watching the tide slowing coming back in was strangely hypnotic, as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky. Slowly bringing in the darkness that she had hoped to not see without Michael in her company. 

She felt almost jittery with nerves, knowing she'd done all she could to distract herself during the day, now there was little more she could do through the night to avoid her own mind. Her house was ridiculously clean from top to bottom. Her laundry had been dried, folded and put away. She'd changed the bed sheets and even made the time to dry and straighten out her hair. Finding that she hated being reminded of how Michael said he'd liked it looking natural, every time she tucked a ringlet behind her ears. 

She'd run out of things to do to avoid thinking, but at least it was late enough to not feel terrible about drinking. She had a mind to cook dinner for herself, but she felt too sick to eat. There was a pressing need in the back of her mind to begin writing some reports that needed filing, yet every time she thought of her work all she could do was worry about the damage she'd done to her career. As her mind kept flashing back to her patient Kate. How foolish she'd thought the poor woman to be, how she'd failed by not taking her story as a cautionary tale to prevent her own disaster. 

Cassidy knew the only thing that was going to switch off her mind, lived in a pill bottle in the cabinet in her en-suite. She just had to ride out a few more hours until she could take a sleeping tablet and lose consciousness until her alarm went for work in the morning. Then maybe she could reach out talk to someone she trusted about the mistakes she made. Get everything straight in her head and put it down to a life lesson. Forget Michael De Santa existed, lock all her feelings for him away in a box and throw away the key. 

She was starting to give major consideration to the fact that she probably needed to get therapy herself again. Hating how some part of being with him had shaken the strength she'd build since finding a purpose in becoming a therapist. She'd spent so long teaching herself not to put hope in other or rely on them in any way, and she thought she'd cracked it. Convinced herself she'd put all her own issues behind her, even if it was with unhealthy coping mechanism that she should have been ashamed of. Yet developing feelings for Michael had cold cocked her and unravelled everything. His attentions had made her feel things she didn't want to feel, and need things she couldn't stand to hunger for. 

Determined to keep her head on straight, she knocked back some more wine and tried not to focus on how badly she just wanted a phone call, or a text from him. _Anything_ just to let her know where she stood and if all her pessimism was correctly founded, or if there was still a the tiniest bit of hope that things weren't as clear as they seemed. 

Needing a sensory distraction from the shimmering worry in her gut, Cassidy plugged a set of white headphones into her phone and stuffed them deep into her ears. Choosing a upbeat playlist that she used to fuel her runs along the beach. She turned music up so loud that her mind couldn't fight through it to form a clear thought, forcing her to focus on the now, and not the 'what if's'. 

Sighing to herself dejectedly, she reached out to pick up the bottle of wine to refill her glass again when something small and hard hit the table in front her. She stopped dead with a frown and looked up to the sky, wondering what the hell it was. Scanning as best she could for something falling from the roof or a freak hail storm coming in, but all she saw overhead the clear purpling dusk. 

She was just about to put it down to her imagination and focus back on the music in her ears when something hit again, nearer the window this time. "What the fuck?" she whispered to herself, pausing the song to listen out for another drop. Pushing away from the table, she leaned out to scan the floor for what had made the sound. 

_PING! ___

__Her head snapped right, to the sound of something ricocheting off the open patio door and scuttling away across the concrete patio. Worrying what the hell was happening she pulled out her headphones and got to her feet. Her mind suddenly clear of her other worries as she began to look around for a source of the interruption near the door. Hoping that something hadn't spontaneously broken or snapped off the building she called home._ _

__She walked across the patio, looking up at her roof and down at the floor trying to find what the hell was happening, but could see nothing of concern up above. Her problems were down at sea level._ _

__"Hey! Cassidy!" Michael's voice suddenly boomed up at her from down on the sand._ _

__She almost jumped out of her skin, a blast of warmth and hope hitting her like a wild storm wave against a rock. Instantly she turned and rushed over to the yellow railing that hemmed her patio. Her eyes going down to the sand to find the sight she'd convinced herself she'd never see._ _

__"You not hear me buzzin' the door?" he cried up at her from the sand, dropping the handful of little pebbles that he'd been throwing up in the hope of hitting the window to get her attention._ _

__Her eyes lost focus as dizzying relief rushed in. Happiness and excitement taking over the anxiety and remorse she'd been feeling since the moment he left her. She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, saying a silent thank-you to whichever invisible power was still on her side, before looking down at him again. Worried for a beat that he was some kind of mirage, but sure enough he was there. Large as life!_ _

__Dressed different to when he'd left though; now in a brand new looking white overshirt and matching tee beneath, but the jeans and boots were the same as he'd come to her in the night before. Even though she was a good twenty feet above him she could see that he still looked as handsome as the devil, his jaw covered in dark stubble. His eyes soft and puppyish with need._ _

__"You gonna let me in, or what?" he asked up at her, confused by the odd look on her face._ _

__"Y-yeah...of course...s-sorry...." she stammered shaking herself out of the weirdest haze of emotions. "Come up." she instructed, quickly headed back into the house and jogging down stairs to unlock the front door for him._ _

__A voice in her head questioned what the hell she was doing in letting him back in, but she muted it. Not wanting to hear the negativity, even though she could feel it bubbling away in her stomach like a forgotten pot of water on the stove._ _

__Her heart was pounding in her chest, in excitement or fear she couldn't be sure. She looked out onto the street, noting a couple were standing together smoking on the driveway next door. A sight that pushed her back into the house, worried her secrets would spill out onto the street if she waited for him at ground level._ _

__With a shaky sigh, she hurried back up the short flight of stairs and began to pace her living room nervously as she waited for him to appear. Concerned by the way in one second felt like she wanted to pounce on him, and kiss him and hug him and thank everything holy for the fact he was safe. While the next second she wanted to slap his face for making her worry so much, or yell and scream at him for confusing her and pushing her back into a situation she wasn't certain she should welcome._ _

__Worst of all she knew after all the effort she'd put in she'd to erasing their actions from her world, she should have been angry that he was there again. Stirring up everything she'd tried so hard to escape that day but the thought of being in his company excited her too much to allow for sensible thought. Her body felt tingly with anticipation, like she was creeping up to the first peak of a rollercoaster with no idea how steep the drop before her was._ _

__"Hey baby!" Michael greeted warmly, as he stepped into through the living room door and closed it behind him. His eyes instantly noticed the fireplace and how a large framed posted now hung over the hole he'd made there. Something about the change troubled him, gave him a hint of a vibe that suggested she was trying to erase him from her home._ _

__Then his eyes found her, standing in off center, near the kitchen counter again. Almost in the same spot as she had the night before when she held a gun at him. Dressed differently to when he left, in a pair of denim shorts and a blue t-shirt. Having tamed her curly hair into the neat bun that he was more accustomed to seeing. She looked even more beautiful than when he left her, but he could tell just by the way she was standing that she wasn't as pleased to see him as he'd hoped._ _

__With her arms folded across her chest, nibbling on the nail of her index finger anxiously, she stared down at the floor vacantly. As if she was afraid of what was about to happen and searching her head for a way out._ _

__Something inside told him a physical reconnection would help, and he walked over to her, reaching out to bring her to him, but she recoiled from his grasp. Took a step back from him and lifted her chin as if entering into a defensive posture._ _

__"Where'd you get the shirt? Did you go home?" she asked, half afraid of the answer and what it might mean for the state of things. Hating the way the dominant parts of herself wouldn't just allow her to enjoy his return and fall into his arms the way she longed for deep inside._ _

__"No." he dismissed firmly. "I stopped by the hardware store on the way back, there's a Sub Urban up there too." he hooked his thumb in the vague northerly direction of the small Chumash strip mall. "Figured I could only go so long in a t-shirt with a bloodied arm." He deliberately neglected to mention that he'd also picked up a few other items, that were currently in the trunk of his car. Shopping with an eye to tide himself over with clean clothes and essentials, 'just in case' she let him stick around._ _

__Her body language was bordering on hostile and it worried him. His head had been full of ideas and hopes for how she'd welcome him back but again she wasn't conforming with his ideals again. He knew he should have guessed as much._ _

__"What's the matter?" Michael frowned, concerned to why he was getting the cold shoulder when he so desperately craved a warm welcome. "Did you not want me to come back here or somethin'?"_ _

__She shook her head, denying his claim but her eyes seemed unsure. Everything she'd thought and felt since he left that afternoon was swirling around inside her like a tornado. Blocking her from finding what she really wanted in the mess of it all._ _

__"It's not that...it's....it's just..."_ _

__Michael's brows knotted together tighter, an ache that felt like rejection expanding across his chest. "What?"_ _

__"I don't know....I just." she turned away from him, struggling to free a single clear thought from the tangled mess in her head._ _

__"I get it if you're havin' second thoughts..." Michael offered, his voice low and solemn. Deep down he'd expected as much. The cold light of day had almost always made him have second thoughts about his behaviour under the cover of darkness too. "...But I'm not. Last night and this mornin'...it made me feel somethin' I ain't felt in years, maybe ever." he confessed boldly, ignoring his pride that demanded he remain stoic. He was tired of beating around the bush about how he felt, playing it cool never got him anywhere before and deep down he knew if he wanted her for keeps, he had to go in hard._ _

__Cassidy glanced back to him, the look on his face said it all. He was being honest, perhaps more honest that he'd been with anyone in a very long time, but it scared her. She thought of her patient Kate and how easily she'd been lead down the garden path by a married man. How honest she had believed he was, only to be left drowning in his lies. Wondering if he was ever going to fulfil the promises he made her._ _

__The thought of ending up like that turned Cassidy's blood cold and pushed her to ask for answers. "What the hell is this gonna be between us, Michael?"_ _

__Michael swallowed hard, he didn't want to fight or rehash all they'd said the night before. He just wanted to get on with enjoying more of what they had. The good stuff, that he'd experienced that morning in her kitchen and upstairs. Her touch and attention that made him feel like a king._ _

__"What do you want it to be?"_ _

__"Don't do that." she snapped._ _

__"Do what?" he cried, already frustrated that she wasn't acting the way he'd been imaging in his head since he walked out the door._ _

__"Don't push the decisions onto me, 'cause you'll only turn around and blame me for everything somewhere down the line when this goes wrong."_ _

__"Jesus Christ." Michael groaned with irritation, watching on as she began to pace in front of the fireplace exactly as she'd done the night before. "I didn't come back here to fight with you again."_ _

__"So what did you come here for?" her eyes clearly told him what she was thinking. She was under the assumption she was a piece of disposable escapism for him._ _

__"Not for sex if that's what you're gettin' at." he implored. "It's way more than that for me." The words that fell out of his mouth were the most honest he'd ever spoken, but she shook her head dismissively. Her negative state of her mind rapidly expanding again and making it hard to believe in him._ _

__He rubbed the back of his head, as anxiety crept up his back. Looking at how uneasy she seemed, how surprised to see him back there, told him only one thing. "You don't trust me, do you?" he asked out, and she stopped in the middle of the track she was pacing across the floor._ _

__She looked at him, searching for a diplomatic answer to give him, but she was talking before she could hold back. "Can you blame me if I don't? Almost everyone I've ever trusted or cared about as either betrayed me, or left me....in one way or another." she told him painfully, pushing his mind back to focus on she'd told him about her past, hoping he could perhaps understand where she was coming from. "And forgive me for not feeling that your track record should instil any confidence in me to say you'll be any different."_ _

__"Fuck me!" he said on a sigh, rubbing his jaw in frustration. He knew she'd be hard work -she'd warned him- but his naive pride had hoped he'd laid the ground work to encourage her to throw caution to the wind and just run with what they had._ _

__"You're the one who told me your whole life is a cycle of _want-it-get-it-hate-it._ " she reminded. "So what am I supposed to think here?"_ _

__"Listen to me." He closed the gap between them and grabbing her arm to make her stop walking around nervously and look at him properly. "This ain't that!" he told honestly. "If you knew how fuckin' hard it was for me to pull off your driveway this mornin', you'd understand." She looked away from him, disturbed by the amount of honesty she could see in his eyes and how his voice seemed to change - tight with emotion. This wasn't the Michael De Santa she'd read about or the front she'd come to anticipate. Something had triggered a drive for honesty in him and it was as unnerving as it was promising._ _

__"This ain't a hit-it-and-quit-it thing for me." he continued. "Every time I've been near you, I feel like I have to know exactly when I'm gonna get to see you again, otherwise I can't walk away." he declared. "I mean shit, Cass. I ain't never kept an appointment in my life but every week I bust my ass to show up to see you on time 'cause being with you for an hour was all that got me through the fuckin' week."_ _

__She bit her lip, forcing down an emotional reaction to his confession that hit home with her very soul._ _

__Michael felt tense with desperation to make her understand how he was feeling for her. He wasn't the best with putting his emotions into words but he knew he had to do whatever he could to make her see. "I know better than anyone that sex ain't no basis for a relationship," he continued. "...one look at my marriage can tell anyone that."_ _

__What he was saying scared her more than encouraged her, and she shrugged out of his grip on her arm. Unable to look at him properly, afraid of allowing herself to get swept away with the uncharacteristic honest she saw in his eyes. Scared that she was willing to let herself dream again of them having some kind of real future together._ _

__He sighed heavily, knowing that if things were different in his life, he'd have more ways to make her see what he felt for her. His instinct was to some crazy shit as a show of affection to fool her into submitting to him, in the same way as he'd done with Amanda and her first boob job. Yet he want to do that with Cassidy, he knew she wouldn't take kindly to grand gestures and it forced him to give more of himself than he ever had in the past._ _

__He wanted what they had to be based on something strong and grounded. Something more than just desire alone. He felt like they had a friendship to build on already - shared interests and goals. A comparable experiences and a similar way of thinking. Personalities that complimented one another. A mutual affection that was organic, not manufactured. Holding the pieces that had been missing inside one another._ _

__The way she'd rejected his money told him her interest in him wasn't materialistic, and assured that the magic which was building between them was based on something deeper than he could ever understand. The thought of blowing it with his usual clumsy, heavy-handedness, chilled him. Yet he didn't know how to ensure he'd handle her with the correct amount of care._ _

__"I know you probably think this is some kind of movie cliché," he offered. "....but I've never felt like this before. About anyone." told her firmly, causing her to glance at him and catch his eye shyly before slowly looking away again. "I told you this ain't just about sex for me, and I wasn't lyin' to you." The honesty with which he spoke felt alien on his tongue, his pride cringed at how he was laying himself bare, but he knew if he stood a shot at winning her trust he had to reveal his inner-self in a way he had never dared before._ _

__"Sure, it was all I could think about at first." he admitted. "But the more I was around you, and the more we talked, the more I realized it was way beyond that." he cast out his arm as if to illustrate the distance that had grown between the two feelings. "Maybe I'm crazy or wishful thinkin' but I feel like there's a connection here." he gestured between the two of them. "I've always been lookin' for a connection with someone. Something real, like this. The only reason I've got bored with what I have was because it wasn't really what I wanted in the first place."_ _

__Despite his honestly she still didn't seem convinced. He wasn't sure if she was deliberately being stubborn or if the demons in her head were warning her off him. A side of him that he tried to ignore wanted to simply say 'fuck it' and walk away. Turn his back on her and give her what she obviously wanted by giving up. That was his default after all._ _

__If a job was too dangerous or insurmountable, he knew when to call it quits. When things at home required steering in a direction he couldn't force, he knew how to bury his head and hit the off-switch on his feelings. Of course, it never stopped him truly caring and he couldn't stand to go on in live wishing for a second chance with her as he did with so many other things._ _

__It felt unnatural to lay himself bare in such a way, put everything on the line for her, it wasn't what he usually did. He was so used to being guarded and covering his feelings with sarcasm and distance, but she had become like a beacon in the darkness to him and he had to reach her._ _

__"Cass, as incredible as things were last night and this mornin', there's something more than physical going on here and I ain't felt anything like this before!" he promised. "I don't give a shit what we do together as long as we are, _together_." It felt like the more truth he spoke, the more wanted to gush forth from his mouth. "I love being around you. I just wanna a shot at being the one to make you happy." he confessed boldly, his stomach aching with the way he spoke with such unfamiliar honesty. _ _

__She let out a ragged, emotional sigh and softly shook her head, as if she was trying to shoo away tears. As hurt as she'd felt for him leaving her so abruptly that morning, she knew it would have been so easier to never see him again. Having him standing there -in her living room again- laying his heart on the line felt so much harder than the rejection she'd initially feared. She was as scared to believe him as she was to think she might disappoint him by not being all he wanted her to be._ _

__She knew how difficult it was for him to be honest and open about how he felt, without someone lighting a fire under his ass and pushing him head first into an outburst. She was grateful to him for speaking the truth he felt in such a calm and clear manner, but the shield around her heart deflected every hit he tried to make._ _

__"Listen to me?" he begged stepping up to her again. "Baby? I've paid thousands of dollars for tailored suits that never fit me as good as you do."_ _

__She scoffed softly, as the urge to roll her eyes almost overcame her. The way he spoke like he was in a movie almost seemed disingenuous but the depth of his voice and the look on his face countered it._ _

__She wanted to believe in every word he said to her, because deep down she knew his words were truth. Over the course of his therapy she'd learned the tone his voice took whenever he lied, and there wasn't a note of dishonesty to be heard._ _

__Yet still there was a warning light flashing above his head. Constantly reminding her of how he'd made his career out of lying and manipulating to take whatever he wanted. Images of Kate's tears for how she'd been cajoled into believing her own suave and charismatic married lover. Friedlander's words about how charming and convincing he could be to get what he wanted, and all his ill deeds that she'd be taking on along with him if she gave in to her heart's desire._ _

__"I don't if I can do this, Michael." she muttered softly, scared of believing in him. Knowing how things changed between two people and how it could be the world around them that tore them apart if they didn't self destruct instead. "There's so much against us, and I don't want to be the other woman." she insisted. "I can't be sitting around waiting for you to show up when you have an hour to spare." That afternoon had seemed like a taste of what would be to come if she put her all into a relationship with him. "...Waiting here imaging you at home with your family, while I give up everything for half a relationship."_ _

__"It's not gonna be like that."_ _

__She gave a snort of sarcastic laughter. "Now you're really sounding like that movie cliché."_ _

__"What do you want me to do?" he barked suddenly, throwing up his hands, a shock of pained frustration jolting him. Angry that his honesty hadn't hit home and that baring his soul didn't seem like enough. His pride was starting to threaten dominance, eager to take over and for him away from wanting to try. "You want me to move out? File for divorce? 'Cause I will."_ _

__"No! Jesus Christ!" she cried. "Anything you decide to do has to be because you want it. Your marriage, your family...that's not about me." she told him, saying a silent prayer her voice didn't give out to the emotional storm inside that threatened tears. "That kinda shit is your call to make, and if you do something rash to try and keep me or impress me....somewhere down the line, you'll end up resenting me for it." she warned._ _

__"This ain't a rash decision, Cass. You know the state of my marriage. I've wanted to end it for years, but I was afraid of being left alone." he admitted. "I didn't think I had it in me to make that leap or that I could find the energy to start over but now...with you...." he trailed off, hoping she could fill in the blanks and understand what he was trying to express._ _

__She shook her head dismissively. "No. Don't put this on me." she begged. "It's unhealthy for you to be going from a marriage to another relationship. I think you need to be by yourself for a bit first, get your head straight to know what you really wan-" he cut her off._ _

__"Quit being a fuckin' shrink Cass! For Christ sake!" he barked._ _

__She took a deep breath, trying to hold herself back from jumping off the deep-end, but it was no good. "This is all right for you, isn't it?" she snapped. "You get to have your happy little family with your mistress on the side, I'll be the one left alone. While you're feeding me empty promises and making me feel like I'm the one who has to change my life to suit you. That I'm the one who has to convince you about what you want."_ _

__"For fuck sake!" he hissed, turning away from her for a moment. Needing a second to push through his frustrations that insisted he give up right there and then. The way she pushed back at his every play drove him crazy. He'd spoken with so much honesty in the hopes that it would help them avoid another fight but she was too stubborn to submit to his truth. It hurt bone deep to feel like nothing he could say was enough to give her faith in him._ _

__He stretched out his neck and took a few deep breaths, pushing down the hurt he felt, before turning back to her. Finding her standing by the mantle, picking at the corner of the wooden shelf mindlessly. He was going to give it one last try._ _

__"Look," he called out. "I know what I want, and want this with you!" he gestured between them but she wasn't looking at him, so he stepped closer, into her peripheral vision but she didn't acknowledge him._ _

__"I'm fuckin' done with livin' with emptiness." he continued. "I'm sick of feelin' disconnected from everyone around me and longin' for somethin' that I've been missin' my whole miserable life." she glanced back at him catching his gaze for a beat before looking away again. "...I'm ready to make a choice here, Cass." he told her firmly. "I just need you to confirm that you want this as much as I do."_ _

__She felt a horrible weight in her stomach and pressing on her shoulder, pulling her in two different directions which both equalled spelled potential disaster. She knew how badly he needed love in his life, how affection and comfort had been missing in his world for so many years, but it still felt like too much too soon. As if despite all their intense feelings for one another, it somehow wouldn't be enough to keep them afloat during the storms that lay on the horizon._ _

__"We've spent one night together and you're already packing your bags to move in? Do you know how ridiculous this sounds?"_ _

__"I don't give a fuck how ridiculous it sounds!" he snapped, throwing up his arms in anger. "If you want me to take a leap here, move out or somethin' then..." she cut him off before he could make promises or disappoint her._ _

__"Will you stop makin' this about what _I_ want?" she yelled turning back to face him front on, her eyes suddenly hot with anger. "I'm not gonna ask you to do anythin'! If _you_ wanna end whatever your marriage is, then _you_ do it, but don't you make it about me." she jabbed a finger into her own chest to punctuate her statement, but the way her natural enunciation came through showed how hot her emotions were. "You're forgettin' that I've seen patients who have lived this life, the cheatin' husbands, the forgotten wife _and_ the mistresses, all of 'em and everyone ends up gettin' hurt in these situations. Happy endings don't happen like this, Michael." _ _

__He scoffed sourly, tensing as he shook his head in disbelieve. "So what you sayin'? _Huh?_ You don't wanna take a chance? That I ain't worth the risk?"_ _

__She opened her mouth instantly to deny it, but she stopped herself with a sigh. Guessing it would be wiser to not give him false hope when she didn't know what she dared to want for herself. "I don't know, it's...." she sighed softly, glancing down at the ground, hating the sorrow plastered all over his face. It weakened her defences a little more every time she caught a glimpse of his sad eyes. "...it's just that...most men never leave their wives, and the side-piece ends up wasting her life waiting around."_ _

__Michael's eyes hooded slightly with sadness as he came to understand her point of view. If the shoe was on the other foot, he wouldn't have trusted himself either. Truth was he couldn't guarantee anything, but neither could she. _Good or bad._ Yet he still couldn't shake the feeling of hope that told him they really had a chance at dodging the statistics. That if they just tried, things would pan out. _ _

__"I'm not most men, Cass." he offered, not liking how she scoffed at him dismissively. "This ain't the case of some guy wanting to have an affair while keepin' his home in one piece. My life back there is fucked, and what I feel about you is the only thing that makes any sense to me." he confessed with as much honesty as he could get out in his voice. He didn't know where he was digging it all up from, but to his concern he was beginning to feel the fight in him draining out of him a little more each time she dodged his sincerity. "If you don't feel the same way about me then..." he trailed off, afraid to promise her he'd walk away because he knew he wouldn't be able to. He couldn't stand the idea of her not feeling the same for him; worried that he was cursed to love another who would again give him nothing in return._ _

__She sighed heavily, her breath shaky with barely contained emotion. The hurt on his face stabbed at her heart. "It's not that..." she dismissed again. Her mouth forming a few words that went without sound, but she bit down on her lip for a beat, ordering her thoughts. Demanding she not confess anything too deep in that moment. "...I told you last night how much I feel for you...I just...I don't know how we can do this." she whispered. "I don't know how this can work without it blowing up on both of us and everyone else getting burned in the explosion."_ _

__Michael sighed, lowing his eyes to the floor for a moment. Letting himself consider the complexities of the situation, but he couldn't stand to think of how difficult it would be. There was always an easy way to find. Always options and different plays to make. If he'd learned one thing as a criminal it was that there were always choices, even when backs were against walls, and her words had given him an opening to find some alternatives to him leading two lives._ _

__"I could move out for a while, get my own place?" he offered, clutching at anything to try and help them both make sense of how to move forward - together. Wanting to show her that he was taking on board her concerns and working with them._ _

__She shook her head urgently. "No. You can't do that right now."_ _

__"Why not?"_ _

__"Well, for one your kids still need you around, they're not stable enough to handle you walking out. And I don't want them to see me as the bitch who took their dad from them."_ _

__Michael groaned, frustrated by the pitfall in front of him. "They're grown ups." he reminded. "They might not act like it, but they're too old to be controllin' my life now. Besides which way, they don't give a fuck about where I am or what I'm doin'."_ _

__"It doesn't matter. There's a huge difference between not caring where you are day-to-day and caring when you up and walk out on them."_ _

__Michael shrugged dismissively, not buying it. "They did alright when Amanda bailed."_ _

__"That was different."_ _

__"Really? How?" he asked, looking at her wide eyed for an answer that she couldn't give. "Because the only difference I see here is that I'm not screwing you in _her_ bed." _ _

__Cassidy cast her eyes away from him again, scared to think she was starting to relent. "I don't know, Michael." she whispered. Trying to resist the urge to just run with what she was feeling in the brief reprieve from her beleaguered thoughts. "Besides all that..." she deflected, knowing they'd argue around in circles over what was best for his family and him. "...If you want this to be more than just one night, or a fling...there's a lot of shit we have to work through."_ _

__Michael's instinct was to groan at the very concept of hard work befalling him, but his desire to please her overrode the urge. He'd learned over the years that if things came easy they were temporary and hollow. All the material possession he had were gained by cutting corners and cheating his way to success. All he really had that he'd worked to create was the sense of emptiness that filled his troubled life._ _

__"Tell me. Whatever it is, I'm willin' to do it." he promised, desperate to know that the affection and love he'd found, after craving it for so long, was guaranteed for the future. Unfortunately however, she didn't look excited by his insistence and it worried him. Yet he knew he had to keep pushing, show her his determination._ _

__"Listen, I know I'm a hard guy to be close to." he confessed. "And I can be a moody sonuvabitch and I know that I've failed to make good on a million different things, and all that shit..." he made a sweeping motion with his arm. "...but I'm ready to fight for this. I'm prepared to do the heavy liftin' and whatever you need me to do to make this work."_ _

__Cassidy looked at him. Her eyes soft, almost solemn looking. She searched his face for a hint that he was just giving her patter. A sign that he was manipulating her in the way he had done with so many people in his life, but all she could see looking back at her was the glow of deep honesty in his eyes. Like what he was asking for meant everything to him and more._ _

__Even if she wasn't persuaded by what he was saying, it was clear he'd convinced himself that his words were truth. He believed he could make this work, and give her everything she needed, and his conviction hooked onto something inside of her and began to draw it out like a fish from the depths of the ocean._ _

__"Jesus!" she sighed, unable to believe how determined he was. How certain he seemed that she was what he really wanted. She'd never expected to see such a thing from him. Worst of all she couldn't believe how much she wanted to trust in him and be coaxed into buying what he was trying to sell._ _

__For years she'd prided herself on not letting other people control or persuade her. She wasn't easily lead by anyone, but when it was something she wanted to believe so badly, it seemed an impossible task to resist._ _

__"I can't believe I'm thinking like this. Fuck me!" she spoke her thoughts aloud. Almost laughing at how easily her mind had clicked into grasping at the concept of them actually making something work between them. "I can't believe we're having this conversation. One night and you're ready to abandon everything you've held on to for all this time? This is fuckin' insane." she spoke out. Shocked by how silent her mind suddenly was, having all but submitted to running with the desire she felt in her heart to believe his promises._ _

__"It ain't just one night." he denied, his tone a little angry for the way she was trying to dismiss his feelings. "We've know each other for weeks."_ _

__She shook her head. "You've known Dr. Nardovino for weeks, not me. Not Cassidy!"_ _

__"That's bullshit!" he swatted his hand dismissively. "You like to think you're two different people, but you're not."_ _

__"You don't know me, Michael. I told you I'm a world of fuckin' problems that you don't need and you'll live to regret getting involved with." She recalled warning him about her temperament and how he shouldn't look at her as being a cure-all for his problems the night before, but it hadn't seemed to hit home. "I'm impulsive and moody and depressive, just like you." she admitted, having always been alarmed by how deeply she related to him. "I've been trying every day for almost ten years to not be the person I was, and I..." she hesitated, afraid that she'd hurt him too deeply by being honest but she had to do him the courtesy. "...I'm afraid that this is gonna bring the worst of who I am. So I have to know it'll be worth what it costs me 'cause I can't get pulled down again. And I can't go through losing anyone else. I don't have it in me to start over if this doesn-" she stopped short, her voice almost giving out to the emotion gathering in her throat._ _

__Michael shook his head sadly, feeling every muscle in his body tensing in frustration and sympathy for the way she was feeling. He related to it more than he could explain. "I don't know how else to convince you of how I feel about you." he offered gently, feeling weakness setting in. "But ever since that day on the sand out there...." he pointed his finger towards the patio door and the beach outside. "...I've known that I want to be with you. That what's between us is way more than physical." she wasn't looking at him and it almost made him growl in frustration. "...When I showed up at your office the last time, I was ready to tell you how I felt about you but you fucked it all up with the shit you started bringin' up!"_ _

__"I fucked it all up?" she snapped. "I'm your Goddamn therapist, Michael! I'm sorry me doing my job got in the way of your plans to indulge some ridiculous fantasy."_ _

__He gave a blast of sardonic laughter. "So that's what this is now? A ridiculous fantasy. Jesus fuckin' Christ! What's the matter with you?"_ _

__"I told you. I don't think this can work because I ain't the perfect fuckin' remedy for your shit, 'cause I've got too much of my own to deal with." He instinctively made a grab for her again, hoping to show her in some way physical way that he was ready to take all that on, but she dodged him with a sidestep._ _

__He stared at her, and she glared back. Standing her ground and refusing to relent. Every part of him wanted to grab her and shake -or fuck- some damn sense into her but he stayed rooted to the spot. Letting the heated moment pass and allowing for tempers between them to go off the boil before speaking up again._ _

__"Cassie, I know you've got issues and so do I, but all along I felt like there's somethin' in you that I can help mend, and I know there's plenty in me that _you_ can fix. Tell me you don't feel that way?" _ _

__On a sigh she moved away from him. Stepping over to the patio doors where she cast her eyes out to the sunset playing across the ocean. Focusing on the dozen different shades of orange as she tried to internally calm her mind into seeing logic and reason. Hoping to find some kind of solid argument to give him; a push back. Some way to stop them believing in what they had to stop themselves both making what would surely be a huge mistake._ _

__She searched her head for the words that would firmly deny what he was suggesting but nothing would come. He was saying everything she wanted to hear and she hated it and the way her heart was filling up with the warmth of hope._ _

__She folded her arms across her chest, and put one hand to her mouth. Trying hard not to let her emotions gets the better of her again, as she put her mind to the control techniques she'd learned over the years. Ways of coping when a patients story effected her personally; ways to switch off and detach the side of herself that pushed her to speak with instinct and not logic._ _

__Lost in thought, she didn't feel him move in close behind her until his hands softly touched her hips. The rush of tingling warmth shimmered up her back making her flinch, but she didn't pull away. Standing frozen to the spot as she felt his chest come in to press against her back, just the same as it had that morning in the kitchen when she was cooking breakfast. His head dipped a little bringing his mouth level to her ear and he whispered._ _

__"Stop tryin' to push me away. It ain't gonna work."_ _

__She swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of his breath tingling down her neck and the desperate desire in her stomach that told her to forget rational thought and just run with what she felt. Knowing that she was never likely to find anyone who had the potential to understand her and all she'd done in her life the way he did. He was offering her everything she wanted and it was as terrifying as it was exciting._ _

__He slipped his hands around her waist, bringing his chest flush against her back. Looking out at the ocean together and letting their thoughts idle for a moment while they enjoyed the feel and warmth of one another again. Comforted by how natural it felt to touch each other and how well their bodies fit together._ _

__They couldn't deny that inside they both felt torn, their consciences telling them what they were doing was horribly wrong, but their hearts held the louder voice and the controlling share of their actions. There was something between them that they had to fully explore, they both knew it. It read like a recipe for disaster, but they both needed some happiness, even if it meant hurting other people in the process. Whatever had grown between them was something they needed to submit to, or spend the rest of their lives regretting it._ _

__Cassidy sighed deeply, the warmth of his body and scent of his skin was intoxicating. It soothed her better than any drug she'd ever ingested. Chasing away her anxieties about believing him and clearing the way for her to look inside her heart and see how badly she wanted to believe his every word._ _

__She wanted him in her life, no matter the cost. There was no denying that, and trying to do so was just punishing herself. She couldn't keep fighting against the tide and destroying all she was in the name of resisting him just to protect people she'd never met and uphold some unwritten code of honour._ _

__She was tired of being alone and afraid, fighting her every instinct to maintain the persona she'd created for herself. She wanted to let go of it all, disregard the consequences and put her faith in him once and for all._ _

__"If we're gonna do this....whatever _this_ is..." she whispered. "We have to sort a few things out."_ _

__"Anything!" he assured, feeling a warmth swell across his chest at the ray of hope she'd sent out to him._ _

__Something inside her needed to give him the benefit of the doubt. To take a chance and fully indulge in the magic she felt with him. _Consequences be damned!_ She wanted him in her life, she needed to feel more of what they had, regardless of what it cost. _ _

__She knew it was foolish, and that she stood to lose everything by betting on him. She knew she was being selfish and would go back and forth between bliss and guilt on a daily basis but more than that she realized if he walked out of her life her heart would be broken beyond repair._ _

__As much as she'd denied her feelings for him, in the guise of trying to be professional or sensible, somewhere along the line she'd set her heart on him. She'd known it all along, and she had to take a chance on him._ _

__She pulled away just enough to turn around and face him without breaking his embrace. Her eyes roamed over his handsome face for a moment. Looking at how soft his eyes were; how needy and eager he was for them to make promises to each other. Promises neither of them could truly guarantee they'd be able to keep._ _

__"We need to establish a distance between the two of us as therapist and patient."_ _

__"Okay. How'd we do that?"_ _

__"You're gonna need to sign up with a new therapist. Go to appointments."_ _

__"I don't need to see a shrink, not if I've got you."_ _

__She rolled her eyes on a sigh and tensed in his arms. "And that's exactly why you need to go. I told you I'm not a fix for your problems. I want to help you be a better, healthier, person, but how the hell can I do that when I'm making you do this...." with that she stepped back and broke his arm lock around her. Suddenly feeling like she was making a big mistake again._ _

__"You're not _makin'_ me do anythin'!" he growled, his jaw tight with aggravation for the constant push and pull. _ _

__She wasn't so sure, but she didn't want to argue over it again. She'd made up her mind, it was just the details now. "Sooner or later I'm gonna start to piss you off, or the whole burden of having an affair will get too much, and you'll need someone to talk to outside of our relationship." Her eyes were firm and unrelenting. She knew how things played out and she was determined to avoid the pitfalls. "It's in your best interests to see another therapist and it also means that we have proof that I'm not treating you anymore."_ _

__Michael conceded. He promised himself he'd do anything to make it work with her, and now was his chance to prove to himself that he could really work at something. "How long am I gonna have to do that for?"_ _

__She shrugged. "I don't know. I've never done this before....I think somewhere in the guidelines it says I can't get involved with a patient for at least two years after they cease treatment."_ _

__"TWO YEARS?" he cried. "What the fuck?"_ _

__"I could lose my career over this, Michael!" she snapped, scowling at him. "If anyone found out about this...Do you know what this kind of thing does to people's careers? How everyone is going to look at me once they know what I did?" her voice trailed off, afraid to think of the possibilities. Thinking of all the scornful looks she'd feel on Monday out of paranoia alone._ _

__" _You_ didn't do anythin'!" he defended. "You pushed me away hard enough, it was me who chased this, not you." _ _

__She shook her head softly, unsure how true that was. "It doesn't matter who chased who. All they'll see is a therapist who pissed all over her duty of care and took advantage of a mentally unstable patient. A married man!"_ _

__Michael gave a hollow laugh. "Mentally unstable?"_ _

__She eyed him angrily. "You're notes clearly say you have trouble handling your emotions, and crave intimacy and attent-" he jumped in._ _

__"I do! And guess what? The only one I ever felt mentally stable around has been you! You're the only one who speaks any sense to me and you're only person I've felt close to in years."_ _

__"And everything about that says this is just erotic transference, and that I should have stopped it before it got this far." she explained although she was scared to think of such a truth. "If anyone found out about this...."_ _

__"No one'll find out!" he insisted, feeling agitated by the way she using her professionalism to avoid her own feelings. "And even if they do I got a friend, Lester, he can wipe any evidence there is."_ _

__"No! Nope! _No!_ Stop right there!" she snapped waving her hands. "Don't even think about trying to cover this shit up, Michael. If anyone found out we'd tampered with evidence of our connection, pulling my license to practice would be a done deal. Not to mention we could be up on criminal charges!" _ _

__Michael groaned, trying to tell himself again that he had to knuckle down and work at this and not just rush in with an easy fix to smooth out all the bumps they'd encounter along the road._ _

__"If this is going anywhere," she gestured between them herself. "...then we need to play this clean and safe. Messing with what's already been done could unravel it all....You establish a relationship with a new therapist, and we lay low for a while..." she was cautious of clarifying the exact amount of time again._ _

__"Then what?" he asked. Clueless about all the obstacles she knew they'd have to navigate around._ _

__"Then....I dunno." she shrugged. "I guess we can say we bumped into each other at a bar and one thing lead to another."_ _

__Michael felt an impulse swell in his chest and he blurted it out without thinking it through. "Or I could buy one of those houses down the street and say we bumped into each other on the beach instead?"_ _

__"What? No! Jesus!"_ _

__"It gives me a place to go when shit goes south at home...Ease the kids into me not being home. I don't have to live there straight away, I can put some money in to doing the place up. An investment."_ _

__"Are you listening to yourself?" she questioned, wide eyed. "You've been married for over twenty years and one night with me, and you're ready to do all this shit? This makes no sense."_ _

__"I don't give a shit, Cass! One night with you made me feel more than I ever did in twenty-three years of marriage. If I have to buy a house and move out to validate what we have, I can do it."_ _

__She was getting tired of fighting him, he was nothing if not stubborn, and he clearly had made up his mind about what he wanted to do, but she wasn't going to allow herself to completely fall blindly into what he was promising._ _

__"You can't move in around here." she told, giving up on arguing the reasons why he shouldn't and couldn't make waves in his marriage, since he wasn't listening. "There's an email trail of me giving you my address."_ _

__He blew a blast of breath through his lips dismissively. "But no one ever saw me come here, you could say I didn't show up and called to re-arrange. That our first session was in your office."_ _

__"That's not what the notes I submitted say..."_ _

__"For fuck sake!" Michael snapped, stretching his neck in irritation. "Are you tryin' to make this difficult?"_ _

__"No, I'm just being a realist. This isn't black and white. This isn't just about me and you, there are too many other people to think about." she reminded and the way he glanced away for a beat told her he hadn't forgotten his family. "If I want to have my career and a rela-" she stopped herself, questioning the use of the word._ _

__"A _relationship_? It's okay, you can say it." he retorted with a tone of sarcasm. _ _

__She eyed him with a lambasting glare, and refused to repeat the word. "If this is going to happen, there's a really fuckin' thin line that we're gonna have to walk for a while, just so I can keep my job-" she had planned to further elaborate on the impact on his own family, but he interjected before she could._ _

__"You don't need to work, I can take care of you!"_ _

__She gave a bitter laugh and snarled out. "Did you listen to anything I told you?" his eyes softened like a scolded puppy. "I don't want to be a fuckin' kept woman! I make my own money, I have my own life..."_ _

__"I know!" he returned. "That's part of what I like about you, the fact that your independent and don't really need me. I'm not trying to take that away from you."_ _

__She felt something warm inside soothe her anxiety a little, relieved to know he felt such a way. "Then you have to play by the rules." she warned. "Because I need a purpose, Michael. If I lose my career, then everything I went through and worked for would be for nothing. And just like you, I can't live half a life. I can't have my only focus being sitting around here feeling fuckin' useless, waiting for you to show up when you have some time to spare."_ _

__"It wouldn't be like that!" he denied, but the way she cocked her head to the side and looked at him the way she used to over her glasses in her office made him sidestep promises. "I know how it feels to live like that, and I don't want that for you." He knew exactly how horrible it was to sit around wasting his life and he wouldn't wish that on anyone, especially not her._ _

__"Well, forgive me but I've seen this situation play out enough times with my patients to know how it ends. I can't risk everything on you, because if it goes wrong, the only way I'd survive it is by having something to distract myself with. Somewhere to turn. I can't completely lock myself down and into you straight away like this, I'm sorry." She spoke so fast she barely realized what she said and looked to him, fearing she'd said too much and hurt him in some way but to her surprise the look in his eyes said he understood._ _

__"I'm not askin' you to. I'm just..." he sighed. "I just hate that you don't trust me. That you don't seem to think there's a future in this."_ _

__"Well, if I had told you that my whole life had been a series of _'chase it, get it, hate it'_ how would you be feeling right now?"_ _

__"I told you!" he growled. "This ain't that."_ _

__"Talk is cheap, Michael. If you want me to buy that, you're gonna have to prove that to me. Because I can't fully believe it right now, even if I want to." she said softly, looking at him with apologetic but unwavering eyes._ _

__He sighed heavily, hurt that she had no faith in him, but he couldn't blame her. He could see how she was risking far more on him than he was on her. He just wanted a chance to earn her trust and prove that everything he said was honest to his core._ _

__"Besides which," she continued. "We're probably getting way ahead of ourselves here anyway. It's been one fuckin' night, we'll probably hate each other in a month's time."_ _

__Michael cast his eyes away and almost groaned at her repeat negativity. However, he knew it was a very real possibility. He'd once been foolish enough to believe that a wedding ring would turn lust into love, and he didn't want to make a similar mistake again. Not at his age, not when what he had with her felt so real, and valuable. His track record wasn't one of success when it came to relationships, and it seemed wholly foolish to hope their connection would survive against the odds._ _

__Cassidy saw the sadness in his eyes, reminiscing over past mistakes, hurting to know that she was pushing him away when he needed reassurance. She didn't want to hurt him by trying to protect herself. She wanted all he promised, she just had to be the one who remained pragmatic, knowing how easily he fell into silver-screen ideals._ _

__"Listen..." she called out to him, stepping close to him. Reaching out to touch his forearm. "I want you," she said firmly and his eyes met hers. "I _really_ do. You make me feel incredible and I love being around you." A smile hinted at the corners of his mouth but it didn't spread, showing her that he sensed the word that was coming next. "But....this is so complicated." his eyes told her he understood, even if he didn't want to let them get caught up in the logistics of making their lives together work out. "Let's just take things slow, okay? Please? We're gonna have to fight for this, and we need to know it's going to last, to build a decent foundation." _ _

__Something about her words seemed to fill him with confidence. She was finally giving him real hope and he felt like he could burst. "I'm ready to fight for this, Cass. And I'm down for takin' things steady." he assured. "I know I rushed into things with Amanda and I was naive enough to think things would work out but....well....we all know that didn't happen. I don't wanna make the same mistakes here." he confessed. "But you and I both know I ain't one to play the long game. I want everythin' as fast as possible and....I...." he stopped himself, unsure of what he was going to say or how to put his feelings into words that wouldn't bubble things over into a reason to back-peddle into fighting again._ _

__"I want you, Cass." he confessed. "And...it's gonna be hard to not rush to make it all happen as quick as possible, but...." he stumbled. He had a million words on his lips, and three little ones in particular that seemed desperate to escape his mouth, but he refused to let them. Those words had always been a cure-all for he and his father alike. Used when forgiveness and peace was needed, like the phrase somehow absolved him of sin and responsibility._ _

__He'd allowed himself to use those words wrongly in the past and he wasn't going to blurt them out so soon or hollowly. Even though he felt it so strong inside, he knew it was too early to know anything like that for sure. He had to wait and see how things played out to be certain he wouldn't wind up making the same hasty mistakes with her as he did with his wife._ _

__"...But this is a second chance, and God fuckin' help me I am determined to do it right and not mess it up this time."_ _

__"That's all I'm asking for." she assured, giving him a soft smile of encouragement. "But we're gonna need some ground rules."_ _

__Rules? He hated rules. The very idea was enough to make him want to run but he pushed back against his crooked instinct. Insisting that he not be the same asshole he'd been all his life. He was at a turning point, a chance to grab all he'd ever wanted with both hands. He couldn't fall at the first hurdle._ _

__"Such as?" he asked with caution._ _

__"Total honesty. About everything. No matter what."_ _

__His shoulders felt tense under the challenge. "I've never done that before, but...I'll do my best."_ _

__"I need full disclosure, Michael." she insisted. "The only way women survive in this life is by knowing nothing, or everything, and I ain't an 'ignorance-is-bliss' kinda girl."_ _

__Michael chuckled softly, even though there wasn't much humour to take from her words. "I'll tell you anything you wanna know."_ _

__"Even if you sleep with her?... _Amanda_..." she couldn't bring herself to say the word 'wife' the guilt made it taste too sour in her mouth. _ _

__"Cass, she ain't been near me in months. That ain't gonna change now."_ _

__"You never know." she said tonelessly, fear trying to get the better of her. "If it happens, I need you to tell me."_ _

__"It won't happen."_ _

__Cassidy dropped it, knowing there was nothing he could say that would put that particular worry out of her mind. "Number two, we need to talk to each other and we need to _listen_ to one another." she insisted. "If I do something that pisses you off, tell me about it and we'll work it out together. If we can't communicate and trust each other enough to be open, even if it's gonna be painful, the there's no point to any of this." she looked at him firmly and he nodded. "I want us to be friends before anything else, and friends talk, and share, and support each other. That's what we need to do. So if we can't agree on something after talking it out, we compromise."_ _

__Michael's eyes lit up with hope. "I agree. I want that too." He'd learned over the years the reason his marriage had crumbled was because he and Amanda had stopped talking to one another and found their counsel in the arms of different people instead. He knew communication breakdown was the death of any relationship, and talking with Cassidy had felt so good since the very first moment they met. The way she had about her that got him thinking in ways he'd never considered promised him that things would be different with her. That she'd know exactly how to solve a problem before it ever became big enough to damage their love._ _

__He desperately didn't want to go back to living inside his head; having spent so many years locked away there. Coming to learn that secrecy was lonely burden that he struggled to stand under. She was offering herself to him not only as a lover and a friend, but a confidante. Something that he'd quietly longed, but wasn't truly certain if he was worthy of or could utilize._ _

__"Is there a number three?" he asked cautiously, trying to focus on moving ahead not doubting himself._ _

__"Yeah! Nothing gets put up my ass."_ _

__Michael broke out into deep laugher, taken by surprise. The momentary look of sternness on her face that faded into her laughing too, and the sight tickled him. The break in the tension felt blissful and his feelings for her spiked. Loving the way she kept him on his toes with curveballs and banter, even in their most heated moments._ _

__"I can manage that." he chuckled. "What about number four?"_ _

__Cassidy studied his face, letting her blue eyes linger on his for a moment. "Just don't break my heart, okay? 'Cause there ain't much of it left." He could see in her eyes that she didn't just mean by breaking his promise to not be intimate with anyone else, but she also seemed to be asking him to take care of himself. To be safe and stop risking his life for a thrill. "...I'd be real fuckin' upset if something happened to you." she admitted._ _

__Michael felt warmth spread through his chest and his eyes lit up even brighter. Her words of concern and protection hit somewhere deep inside him, resonating through him like nothing he'd felt before. The woman he wanted to hold and protect was actually worried about his wellbeing in return. Genuine concern; not the selfish financial kind that his wife had within her in spades._ _

__The look on Michael's face made Cassidy feel funny. His eyes were so intense and hopeful it was a little unsettling. "....And since I'm laying down the law, is there anything you need from me?"_ _

__"No." Michael shook his head. "I just wanna be with you."_ _

__She smiled softly, flattered that he felt that way but still not able to fully buy into it. "I know. I want to be with you too, but...shit's gonna happen, if not now, _eventually_. This isn't gonna be an easy ride. We'd be idiots to believe otherwise." _ _

__Michael sighed. He knew she was right but it didn't make things any easier to swallow. "What I have with you...it's what I've always wanted. That's not gonna change."_ _

__The honesty in his voice was still so clear but she was a realist and cynical by nature. She'd seen enough relationships fail to know that nothing was ever guaranteed between two people. "I hope not, but I need to be prepared for if it does. You should be too."_ _

__"Why don't you trust me?"_ _

__"It's nothing personal, in your line of work you should know that." she told him, and he did know. "Life has taught me trust needs to be earned, it's not granted. If that's not something you can handle-" he cut in._ _

__"No. I get it." He'd taken a chance on people before and lived to regret it in many different ways. "I just wish there was a way to show you that you didn't need to feel that way with me. "_ _

__"There is." she smiled softly. "It's just gonna take a little time and you're gonna have to actually work at something for once." Her voice was light but Michael looked at her intensely with sad eyes for a moment, before nodding understandingly. "I don't want you to convince me with words, I want you to prove it with actions."_ _

__"I promise I'll do my best." he nodded, uncertain about how he could actually prove how he felt to her without some kind of grand gesture that she wouldn't be into. Everything she was asking of him seemed like a huge new challenge but one he was determined to rise to. There was no happiness to be found in lying back and expecting things to work out, he knew he had to put in what he wanted to get out._ _

__Cassidy was trying so hard to not get lost in his promises. Hoping like hell that her instincts about him speaking so honesty were correct and that their whole situation wasn't just some elaborate and indirect way of hurting himself._ _

__She had to swallow her doubts and push her worries to one side while trying to keep the ball of light inside her from exploding. Knowing if she gave in it would take her over completely with dreams and excitement for their future._ _

__There was a long road ahead of them -a long and bumpy path peppered with potholes and roadblocks- but at least it seemed like the first steps they'd taken were on the right foot._ _

__"You sure you don't want to ask anything of me?" she insisted._ _

__"No." he stopped short and thought for a moment. "I just want honesty too, and..." he hesitated, not realizing there was anything extra to say until he began speaking. The urge to dodge jumped up on his back, but the curious expression on her face forced him to speak. "If you...If you ever find a guy.... _or a girl_..." he put out, trying hard to ignore the worries he had for knowing she seemed to have so many options available to find someone better than him. "...Someone that actually deserves you...."_ _

__She sighed heavily, hating to hear more examples of his self hatred. Feeling guilty that she'd made him doubt her dedication to him. "I told you, I might like girls too, but I like _you_ best."_ _

__A little voice in Michael's head whispered - _'for now'_ but he still smiled softly, grateful to hear the certainty in the words she spoke. "I guess all we can do is see where this goes then." he offered, wanting to reach out and hold her but she still seemed reluctant to let herself fall into him. _ _

__She smiled and nodded, relieved the air was cleared. "Yeah, but don't think I'm not gonna make this easy for you, 'kay?"_ _

__"Oh, I didn't think for a minute you would...." he teased with a soft chuckle. "...but just cut me a bit of slack now and then? I'm a fat old fuck who ain't exactly immune to screwin' up and sayin' or doin' the wrong thing, but I promise you're not gonna regret givin' me a shot at this."_ _

__A voice in her head laughed at how naive she was being. Reminding her of how he'd promised he'd make his marriage to Amanda work, but she didn't care for the disenchantment and slapped the voice in the mouth. She didn't need to hear it all again, she knew the risks and was tired of focusing on them. She just wanted to take a chance on him, if she got hurt, she got hurt. It would just be one more aching scar to carry on her skin._ _

__"I'm a vengeful woman, you know." she said teasingly, against the emotions in her throat. "So you better not mess me around." she tried to sass him, attempting to chase the gloom away from her eyes and his, making them sparkle with amusement instead._ _

__"I'm not gonna get on the wrong side of a woman who's smart, beautiful and clearly dangerous." he smiled, flirting with her to ease the low-level lingering pain they had both felt._ _

__"You have no idea." she smiled, but something in her eyes told him there was a warning laced within her words._ _

__After what he'd seen the night before, he knew she wasn't kidding around, but he was determined to never give her cause to show him the beast within her again._ _

__They looked at each other deeply for a moment, letting their words swirl around in their heads. Accepting the struggle they'd face and the challenges laid down for one another._ _

__"So, can I kiss you now?" Michael asked coolly._ _

__Cassidy gave a scoff of laughter at how smooth he was trying to be. Imagining that he was picturing himself in some kind of a movie, but she couldn't help but find that endearing._ _

__She narrowed her eyes at him, in mock suspicion. "Hummm, I dunno about that."_ _

__Michael smirked, and without another word moved into her. Gently cupping her cheek with one hand as he bought his mouth to her smiling lips. Kissing her softly as his free hand slipped around her waist and pulled her close against his chest. Kissing for a few moments to confirm their promise to each other, before he eased back and took a look at her face. All the sadness in her eyes had cleared, and it looked like she made taken the first step in the direction of believing in him, and them as a couple._ _

__"Gimme your phone!" she insisted, taking her hand off his chest and holding it out expectantly._ _

__"What for?" he asked in a frown, as he took it out of his pocket and handing it to her. Trusting her with whatever she planned._ _

__"You only have my work number. If anyone looks into our relationship, they'll be able to trace our contact. With my private phone, they never need to know it exists."_ _

__"That old criminal mind comin' back online huh?" he teased._ _

__"No," she said with a note of laughter in her voice, nudging him in the chest with her elbow. "Just being cautious. Don't you want to be able to call me all hours of the day?"_ _

__"Of course!" he assured. "And you know...if you wanted to send me dirty pictures or somethin', that'd be okay too."_ _

__She laughed. "Don't push your luck, pal!"_ _

__He chuckled, and watched her for a moment as she typed in her number and personal email address into his phone and saved it, then handed it back. He looked over the entry, that he'd named 'Doc N' before he'd even met her in person._ _

__"You should probably change the name to something more discreet. We don't want anyone thinking you're getting sexts from your doctor or anything."_ _

__Michael chuckled at the thought. "So who shall I save you as?"_ _

__"I think Cass is gender neutral enough to not raise too many suspicions, but maybe Sid would be safer?"_ _

__"A'right." he nodded, typing into his phone to make the changes. "So dare I ask who I am in your contacts?"_ _

__"Well, you were Michael DS, but I think I might change it to Boy Toy now." she teased and a grin spread across Michael's face as he was overcome with an urge, and he grabbed her by the hips, pulling her into him._ _

__"Are you always this sassy?" he growled, low in his throat as her arms encircled his neck._ _

__"Yeah. Get used to it." she giggled, as he moved in to kiss her neck. Stubble scratching rousingly at the sensitive skin there._ _

__The bliss he felt inside was better than any high he'd ever experienced. It felt incredible to know that they were working to create something that would enrich his life and give him something to look forward to, a source of true joy instead of constant pain._ _

__"Thank you for giving me a chance." he said softly against the shell of her ear._ _

__She tightened her arms around him, hugging him tight, showing him her love as best she could. Michael returned the gesture, holding her firm against him and breathing her in. The smell of her fruity shampoo soothing him. The warmth of her loving embrace patching up the holes inside him allowing her love to fill him up completely._ _

__He'd gone years without being hugged, or touched in any way that didn't require payment or pain and he didn't realize how much he'd missed the way it comforted him. Having someone to hold, and someone holding him in return, felt like heaven._ _

__They nuzzled each other for a few moments, enjoying the calm that settled in after their storm of words. Placing little kisses on each other's cheeks and jaws as they held on to one another tightly. Briefly escaping reality in exchange for a realm made of only love and affection._ _

__"So when am I gonna be able to come over?" he asked, when he eventually raised his head up from her neck to look into her eyes. "When you finished work at night?"_ _

__"Well, I'm not going to sit around waiting for you to show up whenever you feel like it." she warned gently and he nodded in understanding. Despite his greater instinct, he had to let her have her own life, it was one of the things he most admired about her - her independence. "I do a few of classes at the gym during the week and a Spanish class at the library too. So if you want this to happen, you're gonna have to work around me a bit. Give and take."_ _

__"You still playin' hard to get huh?"_ _

__"No." she chuckled. "I'm just letting you know that I don't come easy and I can't give up everything to be your bit on the side." She hated how her negative side still wouldn't shut the hell up, trying to shoot things down before they'd even properly left the ground._ _

__"You're way more than that, Cass."_ _

__"Whatever I am to you, I know you're not mine for the taking." she said her voice faltering slightly, hating how those words sounded. "And I have a life and I'm not going to give anything up until I know this'll work out."_ _

__Michael didn't understand why but something in him began to bring out a smile._ _

__"What are you smirking at?" she frowned, at the unexpected response._ _

__"I dunno...I just...." he thought inwardly for a moment, trying to make sense of what exactly he liked about her attitude with him. "I guess I just kinda like knowing that you wanna be cautious and that you're not dependant on me. I love that you're determined to be your own person. That you have a life that you're letting me a be a part of."_ _

__"You'll probably end up hating that about me." She knew how he had so many issues with control, it didn't seem likely that he'd be able to tolerate her independence once the novelty wore off._ _

__Michael shook his head instantly. "No, I won't. Havin' lived on the other side of the coin for so long....I like that you want to stand on your own two feet." He could see there was a chance for a balance in their relationship that he'd never had with Amanda. "That you do things off your own back and maintain your own lifestyle. That you..." he stopped short, shaking his head softly, not knowing what to say to express what he was feeling for her._ _

__"That I want you for you, and only you? Not your wallet?"_ _

__Michael's eyes lit up, just as she always had since the day he met her - she'd hit the nail on the head. "Exactly. I haven't felt wanted for who I am in....." he hesitated, a ghost of rejection and failure that rooted all the way back in his childhood walked through him. "...in forever."_ _

__"Well you better get used to it, buddy, 'cause you mighta started something here." she said playfully, poking him in the chest. Sensing the long forgotten emotions stirring in him and wanting to distract him from the pain._ _

__He laughed softly, relaxing now they'd laid their problems out on the table. It felt good to have spoken about things like adults without yelling and calling each other names, or using pushing each other's buttons to get the upper hand, the way he and his wife always did. He was amazed by how Cassidy could still put such a solid smile on his face, even after the rollercoaster of emotions they'd been through._ _

__He knew it was way too early to say the words that he felt waiting on his lips, but there was no doubt about what he felt for her. He wanted to tell her, to share his deepest feelings for her but it wasn't the right time and bizarrely, he wanted to work to earn his chance. She deserved his dedication and every perfect moment he could give her._ _

__He sealed the small gap between them, tightening his arms around her once more and softly kissing her on the lips. Trying to telepathically tell her what he was feeling and thank her for making him feel like he was genuinely worth something real to someone, for the first time in years._ _

__Passion grew rapidly between them, as their lips reacquainted themselves with one another and their hands began to roam over one another. Michael was the first to lose his focus in the intoxication of her warmth, but Cassidy was still locked into her pragmatic side._ _

__"Hey!" she said breaking the heated kiss, and pulling back at little. "I thought this wasn't about sex."_ _

__"It's not, but...you make it really hard." he stopped short, his face souring at the awful pun he'd just made._ _

__She laughed at him. "Which _it_ are talking about here?" He raised his eyebrows at her suggestively and she laughed deeply. "You're the worst!" _ _

__"Yeah, but you love it." he said cockily._ _

__She screwed her lips to the side thoughtfully, rolling her eyes upwards as if she had to think super hard. "Maybe." she teased, unable to laugh before he pulled her against him again and covered her mouth with his._ _

__They kissed for a few moments more, enjoying being physically reunited with one another, and allowing the chemicals between them to settle the wild storm of emotions that had tried to tear them up._ _

__When he broke the kiss, he did it softly, as if he was reluctant to stop, but something was playing on his mind. "Put some shoes on." he insisted. "I wanna take you to dinner."_ _

__Her shoulders dropped, suddenly deflated. "No! We can't do that."_ _

__Michael sighed. "Why not?"_ _

__"If someone saw us..."_ _

__"It's not a big deal, Cass. I just want to take you out and buy you dinner!"_ _

__She let her head fall back, exasperated already. "I don't want you to _buy_ me anything, Michael!" _ _

__He cut her off. "Jesus. Alright. I know." he sighed, frustrated that they couldn't instantly have the life and experiences he wanted them to have together. "I just wanna get out and do somethin' with you."_ _

__"We can't do that for a while." she warned gently. Clearly able to see how disappointed he was. "But let's get a pizza or something instead." she suggested, hoping that would be a good enough consolation. "There ain't a restaurant in town that has a view like I've got."_ _

__A smile spread across Michael's face. He was unsure if he was more excited about enjoying her company with an ocean backdrop again, or with how she'd managed to effortlessly find their first compromise. Something he'd struggled to do since day one with the other women in his life._ _

__"Deal." he agreed and kissed her on the forehead._ _

__"There's a number for the good place on the fridge." she told him, slipping out of his embrace and leading him towards the kitchen._ _

__"The good place?"_ _

__"Not all pizza is created equal." she joked. "Ask for The Classic, it's amazing."_ _

__Michael followed, reaching into his pocket for his phone as she headed further into the kitchen to set about taking another glass from the cupboard and a new bottle of wine. Hoping they could maybe recreate something along the lines of a decent restaurant substitute outside on her patio._ _

__"It better not have pineapple on it." he warned, plucking the menu off the fridge and tapping in the number into his phone._ _

__Cassidy stopped in her tracks and looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. "Do I look like the kinda girl who believes pineapple is a valid pizza topping?"_ _

__Michael laughed at her as he put the phone to his ear waiting for an answer. "Thank God. That shit ain't right!" he agreed and she smirked at him. It was a relief to be with someone who had his tastes, knowing that whenever he ordered pizza at home he was outnumbered._ _

__Having quickly arranged a food delivery, Michael hung up and looked at Cassidy for a moment as she uncorked a bottle of wine, before turning his eyes back across the living room to the ocean outside. He knew things were far from perfect, that there were many more struggles ahead of them, but in that moment, life felt really good. _Positive_. Like he finally had something to look forward to in his life away from work. A little challenge for a lot of reward. _ _

__"Here!" her voice cut through his thoughts and he turned his head to find she was standing beside him holding out a ten dollar bill._ _

__"What's the for?"_ _

__"My half of the pizza."_ _

__"It's on me."_ _

__"No." she told him flatly. "I don't care if it's a pizza or a eight course meal, I'm paying my way. Fifty-fifty!"_ _

__He wanted to growl at her, tell her to not be silly, but the truth was, he liked it. Her attitude was refreshing and something he had never experienced, he liked that what they had was becoming like a balanced partnership._ _

__"Alright." he sighed, taking the cash from her. As his pride made a mental note to slip it back into her purse when she wasn't looking._ _

__Next, she handed him a glass of wine and suggested he follow her out to the patio where a wooden table and four chairs awaited them, but he wasn't ready to sit. He loved the view too much. The way the patio balcony seemed to reach right out across the water, like they were on a huge ship rather than outside of a beach house._ _

__"This place is amazing." he told her, as she came up alongside him, slipping effortlessly into his embrace._ _

__"I knew you only wanted me for my beach house." she teased._ _

__Michael chuckled. "Well, the fact you're in it makes it even better."_ _

__"I should hope so." she smiled, snuggling into his strong arms and resting her head against his shoulder. Letting the warmth of his arms soothe her in the way only he could. Satisfied with the choices she'd made to trust him and submit to the love she felt rapidly expanding throughout her body._ _

__They stood together in a comfortable silence, just looking out at the ocean and enjoying the calm and pleasure of each other's embrace. Listening to the waves meeting the shore and lapping at the cluster of nearby rocks, processing everything that had happened and all that had been said._ _

__"Things are gonna work out, baby. I'm gonna make sure of it." he whispered to her._ _

__She pulled back from his shoulder to look into his eyes. Her first urge was to remind him not to make promises he couldn't keep, but something in his eyes told her he was genuine - scarily so. She knew there were a million obstacles to overcome, thousands of reasons why they should put a stop to things right there and then, but they were already in too deep._ _

__Smiling at him softly, she kissed him again, letting a wish escape out from her thoughts and into the universe. A wish that longed for them to keep swimming so well together. Hoping they'd find safe shores easily, and not be pulled apart by the stormy seas that were slowly clustering over the city, getting ready to creep up the coastline towards their beachfront sanctuary._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for 2017! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and of course, I'd love to hear what you guys think. Happy Holidays and big hugs to you all! Thanks for reading! :o)


	34. Be With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I am so very sorry for taking so long to update. 2018 got off to am absolutely horrible start for me.
> 
> There were two deaths in my family at the very start of the year, which have been followed by untold dramas and upsets, all of which have had me in a really bad place mentally/emotionally. Then on top of that I got sick with the flu and it's taken me ages to feel halfway human again. So I really struggled to get into the right headspace to edit this chapter but I had a small breakthrough yesterday and figured I needed to strike while the iron was hot. Better late than never, I hope! :o) 
> 
> Anyways, this is a shorter chapter than the last few have been, it's lighter too with plenty of fluff so I hope you enjoy it, and that it was worth the wait. Enjoy! :o) xoxox

_And I's always diving, diving under the gun,_  
_Well holding on to nothing, holding onto some, well holding onto some._

_And I's always striving, but I'm left undone,_  
_Countin' the days but the lonely don't lie, they get up and they run._

_'Til you blew in just like paper in the wind,_  
_Well I just wanted somethin' to believe in,_  
_And I just want you on my arm, every limb,_  
_Carry on with you right down to the bitter end._

_Oh I'm with you,_  
_Oh I'm with you,_  
_Oh I'm with you._

[ **Love Song #1 by White Buffalo** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2l6bHijhO-U%20)

The fire of the setting sun slowly turned to embers of swirling blues and purples, as a large waning moon rose slowly in the sky above Michael and Cassidy. Casting down a silvery glow on them while they sat out on the ocean side patio, eating pizza and drinking wine. A strings of star shaped white lights that hung all around the area swayed in the sea breeze, twinkling like the moonlight on the calm waves as they lost themselves in one another.

They talked as they ate, making jokes and discussing everything from favourite movies and bands, to the placed they'd been and some of the problems they'd had to overcome through the years. Revealing more and more information about themselves to each other; piece by piece building clearer pictures of who they both were and what they wanted from life. 

They stole soft kisses and gentle touches, holding hands from time to time, and leaning into each other to touch an arm or a thigh as they found themselves encased in conversation that took them in a tangle of different directions. Opening up to one another more and more with each word, and nothing had ever felt more natural. 

Even though they didn't fully agree on every topic they broached. For example, Cassidy didn't agree that Nelson In Naples was a masterpiece, nor that Phil Collins actually improved Genesis, but it didn't really matter. For the first time in years Michael found it actually felt good to have a difference of opinion that didn't lead to all out war. He'd forgotten it was possible to disagree with someone without them flying off the handle the way everyone else in his life did. He liked that she thought differently to him too, especially since she seemed to be able to still appreciate and welcome his point of view. The whole experience made him feel valid and in the strangest way, _loved_ too. 

He was enamoured with the way she listened to him, her eyes never leaving his as he spoke. The way she could make him laugh with anecdotes and commentary on life, and how she effortlessly broadened his mind to new thoughts and ideas. Inspiring him and building a sense of enthusiasm inside him that he didn't know he was capable of experiencing at his age.

As she revealed more about herself -her past- he absorbed everything about her, like some kind of human sponge. Making mental notes of names and places, and trivial information, things that wouldn't have been worth noting with anyone else, but with her, everything little detail seemed to matter. Each an individual piece of who she was that he wanted to gather up and keep close. 

In the ten years he'd lived in Los Santos, he could remember feeling so relaxed and welcome in another person's company. Being there with her filled him with an odd warmth that harkened back years to his carefree youth. There was something magical about supporting each other in revealing more about themselves, building a stronger and deeper bond with each word they spoke. 

By the time it got too cold to stay sitting outside, Michael felt like things couldn't get much better between them. That was until Cassidy suggested they move inside and find a movie to watch. Even though it seemed they didn't completely see eye to eye on the quality of some movies, they still had plenty of common ground in a love for all things cinematic and he was excited to be able to share his interests with someone for the first time, in a very long time. 

Despite the ease of the evening, they were both trying terribly hard to not give in to their urges and distracting themselves with some linear entertainment and a bowl of popcorn seemed like the best plan of action to keep them on the right track. 

As they cleared up from dinner and moved inside, Michael found himself wondering about how exactly they were going to watch a movie together, since he couldn't see a TV anywhere in the first floor of her beach house, but when she lead him upstairs and back to her bedroom everything became clear. 

She popped down a bowl of popcorn on the dresser nearest the door and then moved over to the far side of the bed. Picking up a remote control from the draw in the side table, and pointing it to the footboard. Hitting the power button triggered a soft whirring sound, that took Michael's attention to the end of the bed. He watched as the top of the leather board opened up to slowly reveal a large flatscreen TV rising out from inside, with a slim-line DVD player and games console nestled neatly underneath. 

"Ta-dar!" she sang, proudly. 

"Fuckin' A!" Michael nodded appreciatively, his eyes taking in the impressive set up as he moved over and put the two bottles of beer he was holding on the side table nearest to him. "I'm gonna need to get one of these. Where the hell'd you find this at?"

"Online. It was a splurge, but I got a good deal..." Cassidy revealed as she set about banking up all the pillows against the headboard, while Michael moved the popcorn over to where he'd placed the beers. "Dunno know how I'm gonna fit this into my car if I ever need to make a midnight run though." she joked carelessly, making a move to get onto the bed when she noticed the way Michael had frozen in place, an expression on his face that bordered on panic. 

"You're not planning one, are you?" he asked bravely, afraid of facing the possibility of her up and vanishing on him at any point and the reasons that might prompt such an event. 

"Of course not." she dismissed adamantly, a soft smile in her eyes reassuring him. "I've got a job I love, and a nice house and a super hot guy in my life. There's no way I'm going anywhere." 

Michael nodded thoughtfully, too relieved by her assurance to fully acknowledge the compliment she'd indirectly given him. "Glad to hear it." 

Cassidy felt something twist in her stomach, but she couldn't be sure if it was caused by the ghosts of her past or fear for a future that was uncertain. Either way, she didn't want to linger on it, knowing that if she picked at the thread of stitching that held her in place everything would unravel and send her crashing back to earth. 

"C'mon!" she chirped, climbing up onto the bed properly and settling against the wall of pillows. "Turn the light off and get up here!" Feeling warmed inside, Michael did as he was told. Shutting off the ceiling light so just the side lamps were on. Toeing off his boots and getting up onto the bed, settling in besides her. "If you ask me, there are only two good places to watch a movie." she told him, firing up the television. "In the theatre, or in bed." 

Michael chuckled, putting his arm around her and pulling her close to him. "You are definitely my kinda girl." 

As much as he didn't want to think of his wife in that moment, he couldn't help but remember the time when Amanda had cut the power cord off the TV from the bedroom. It happened years earlier -when in a fit of rage- she'd claimed his love of movies had been responsible for killing their sex life, but it was only a matter of hours before that theory had been disproven. Although she had never allowed him to replace the TV and indulge in comfort of a movie in bed again, leaving him to make do with the couch. 

"Gotta say though," he continued moving away from thoughts that threatened to make him angry "...the sight of that games console is giving me anxiety." 

Cassidy gave a soft scoff of laughter. "What? You gotta problem with videogames?"

"Just didn't peg you for a gamer, but then I guess you are a millennial." 

"It's good for de-stressing." she told him on a laugh. "You should give it a try." 

Thought of Jimmy rushed into Michael's head for a moment, making him recall the times he'd tried to get involved with playing along with him. How he'd ended up finding himself more angry than ever when the virtual character he was playing would do exactly how he'd instructed. "No thanks." he dismissed. "Tried to play with Jimmy once. Almost put the controller through the TV."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Cassidy smiled at him, finding it all too easy to imagine the scene, while fighting herself to ignore the mention of his son. Internally wincing at how the volume of the niggling voice in her head cranked up, pushing a thought into her mind that warned of how foolish she was being to be fall for the man besides her. 

Refusing to let her focus stumble, she cast the doubts out of her head and concentrated on the moment at hand and not the mess she was making for herself. Taking a silent but deep breath, she snuggled in closer to him, settling into place as she fired up the TV, eager for distraction. 

"Can I trust your taste enough to let you pick something?" she asked, with a cocked eyebrow. 

"Hey! My taste in movies is second to none." 

"Based on what you told me outside? I'm not convinced." she joked. 

"You know what it does to a man's pride to have his film taste knocked?" 

She patted his arm softly. "Aw, I'm sorry. Go ahead, show me how wrong I am." she teased, passing him the remote. 

He snatched it, with a playfulness in his narrowed eyes and she giggled biting her bottom lip to hold back a sassy grin. Doing his best to resist the urge to kiss her into submission, Michael began to flick through the movie listings to find something that was about to start and that would prove he had superior movie taste. 

"Hummm...." he said thoughtfully. "I'm pretty sure there's a clause in my contract with the studio that states I can't say half of these movies are good." 

"Excuses, excuses." she scoffed. 

Michael chuckled softly, enjoying her playful nature. "What about Bullwhip Fury?"

"Oh God no!" she cried. "That movie is the worst!"

"Are you kidding me? It's classic!" 

"If you call racism and misogyny classic." 

"It's an old movie, that's the only shit they knew how to do back then." 

"Yeah, but it still don't make it a classic. In fact, you've just lost ten cool points for even _suggesting_ it's a classic." 

"Cool points?" he raised his eyebrows. "I didn't realize you had a scorin' system in place?" 

"I do. And right now, you're negative ten points."

"Woah!" he cried, breaking into a chuckle as he calculated what she was implying. 

Cassidy laughed at the amused, yet slightly wounded look on his face. "I'm kiddin'!" she assured lovingly, snuggling tighter against him. "You're the coolest guy I know." 

Suddenly his mind was flooded with images of the men he knew to be in her life. All the guys he's seen and heard of her being around her since the day they'd met, the ones who were temporary, and those who he sensed would be around long term. 

For some reason his mind settled on a guy he hadn't given a seconds thought to before, but now -give the circumstances of their new relationship- he somehow seemed important. The first man he'd seen her talking to all those weeks ago. 

"Even cooler than that old dude with the glasses at your office?" 

"Who?" Cassidy frowned for a beat, until recollection flooded her eyes. "Geoffrey?..." Michael gave a facial shrug, unsure of his name. "Well, no-one is cooler than him." she said deadpan but her internal voice laughed, having her suspicions of some level of jealousy confirmed.

Michael chuckled at her again, loving the way she kept sassing him without even trying. Keeping him on his toes and making his stomach muscles begin to ache from such frequent amusement. Encouraging out the playful side of him, dusty and rusted from so many years of disuse. That side of him had so rarely got to see the light of day, beneath so many clouds of stress and worry, but he was pleased to know it wasn't lost or dead, just dormant and almost forgotten. 

"If he knew about us...." Cassidy muttered, her focus slipping back into the shadows. Thinking out loud as her expression turned worried with darkening thoughts. "He'd crucify me."

Michael felt a strange mix of conflicting emotions, excitement and pride for her using the term 'us' to describe them and worry for the possibility of a threat in the form of her colleague and the growing fear in her eyes. 

"Is he gonna be a problem?"

"Nah." Cassidy shook her head, choosing the keep walking on the path of light that weaved around the gloom in her mind. "He's kinda creepy but I think he's pretty harmless."

"You sure?" 

She thought for a moment, feeling certain he was just the office busy-body. As long as she kept dodging his requests to join his committees and avoided committing to his quest to have her agree to his "get-rich" clinic proposal, all would be well. The deadline for both were coming up, if she recalled correctly. It wouldn't take much to avoid him until then, as long as she kept Michael away from her office, of course. She couldn't see any major problems arising. 

"Yeah. I mean, I'd be more worried about him if he owned a jacket that actually matched his pants."

"I didn't know that was a marker for danger."

"Oh yeah!" Cassidy insisted with a playful twinkle in her eye. "It's the ones who wear the sharp suits you have to be wary of. Those guys are always charming and dangerous as the devil himself." she teased and Michael's eyes beamed at her. 

"Well, I wouldn't know anyone like that." he said innocently, a devilish glint in his eye. 

"Oh, of course you wouldn't." she smirked, moving in to kiss him on the cheek. Sending a rush of warmth through him that relaxed him down to the core. 

Resisting the urge to lose himself in her, and show her just how charming he could be, Michael put his attention back to the TV and continued flicking his way through the movie listings her subscription service offered. Loving the way she hugged herself against him as he kept his heavy arm wrapped around her, pinning her to his side as close as could be. 

The feel of her slender body against him felt better than he remembered from the night before, and for as much as he wished to repeat the passionate performance they'd given in her bed less than twenty-four hours earlier, the intimacy of simply hanging out together, being in each other's company with no agenda was enough to satisfy him. 

Being physically close to someone without it being a precursor to sex did feel a little odd to him though, yet the comfort he felt from knowing there was actually someone in the world he could share a genuine interest with felt surreal. Just to be around someone who wanted to spend time with him, without any demands or expectations meant more to him than a lifetime of mind blowing sex ever could.

For Cassidy, the heat of his thick, strong body chased away the residual chill from the ocean breeze they'd been sat out in. Silently comforting her in ways she'd longed for. Making her feel like she was safe from every threat she'd ever faced. Safe and loved in a way she'd been certain she would never get to feel. 

Hypnotized by the comfort of his bodily warmth, she found that her eyes lost focus on the movie options he was mulling over and her thoughts turned inward once more. Her relaxed state clicked her default setting back into place, pushing her to search for some kind of negativity. However, whatever anxiety she had about their relationship had receded far beyond her reach, as if it were somehow sated by his presence. 

All the worries and warnings she'd been battling since meeting him were silent against the security and tenderness she felt in his embrace. There was a strange kind of reassurance emanating from the connection they'd made over the weeks they'd known one another, and especially from their interaction out on the patio that evening. Their bond was strengthen with every minute they spent together, building a wall around her that blocked her view of all the worries and threats that waited for them on the horizon. 

As she lost herself in the calm of being besides him, she began to absentmindedly stroke his tummy just above the belt of his jeans. Rubbing a light figure of eight between the buttons of his white cotton shirt, losing herself in him and the scent of his skin. The faint hint of the shampoo he'd used that morning in the shower with her, mixing with a whisper of cigarettes, red wine, some saltiness from the sea air outside, all blending together with just the right amount of fresh perspiration. A perfect blend of unadulterated masculinity which caused her to stir a little inside. 

Suddenly his hand came down on hers and snatched her touch away from him. She sat up instantly, panicked by his reaction, fearing something was wrong. "What's the matter?" she asked, wide eyed and worried but the moment she focused on his face she knew. 

Her delicate, mindless touch had filled him with tingles that were starting to cause a problem in his jeans. "You need to stop that, otherwise we're gonna have a situation." he suggestive warned her, his eyes sparkling vibrant blue in the light of the television screen. 

She giggled softly, her body relaxing back into his. "I like those kind of situations." 

"So do I." he smirked. "But I'm trying to behave myself around you tonight." 

"Should I go sit on the other side of the bed, so it's easier for you to control yourself?" she teased. 

Michael chuckled. "Narh, you can stay just where you are...I controlled myself around you for almost ten weeks....I can survive a night." 

"You sure?" she tempted, testing him by moving up a little to bring her lips to his kissing him softly. His hand raised up and cupped her head as he kissed back, fighting against the urge to flip her over and tear off her clothes. 

Cassidy knew it was wrong to be challenging his willpower in the way she was, and of course it was worse to be going against what she'd wanted him to prove to her, but being next to him, the heat of his body, the scent of his skin, the memory of what he'd done to her in that bed, made it too hard to resist. 

Before she knew what she was doing, their tongues had tangled together and she was moving over to straddle him. His hands instantly went to her bare thighs, gliding over her taut skin as conscious thought fled. Leaving them lost in kissing each other, deeper and deeper, but as she settled herself over his hips, shifting her weight in preparation to grind against him - her knee hit the remote control laying at his side - suddenly the room was filled with the sound of gunfire. 

They broke the kiss and looked back to the screen just in time to see the title card for "The Redeemer" plastered itself across the screen in blood red bullet holes. 

"Oh shit! I love this movie!" she cheered, pushing back off him and returning to her original position at his side. 

Michael laughed deeply making the tingles that had built inside him ache. She drove him crazy with the back-and-forth, but it felt so good he couldn't find it in him to be annoyed that she'd got him fired up for nothing. 

"And you're talking to me about questionable taste?"

"Shush!" she dismissed cheekily. "I'm not saying it's a classic, but it's entertaining." 

"That's one way of puttin' it." he sighed, sitting up a little better against the headboard and putting his arm around her shoulders again. Bringing her close to him, where she rested against his chest once more. 

"We don't have to watch it." she offered, feeling a little selfish. "There's a bunch of new stuff out this week." she offered. "I saw a trailer for the classic channel the other day, films like Rum Runner are on I think." She guessed it was probably appropriate to watch something his idol and mentor had a hand in making. 

"Now we're talkin'!" he beamed, pleased they'd again found a compromise. "I used to want to be Eddie Olson when I was a kid." 

"Why doesn't that surprise me? I bet you wanted to bang Leonora Johnson too, huh?"

"Who didn't?" he cried. 

"She was hot." Cassidy agreed. 

"Was she your type?" he asked, recalling how she'd revealed her past relationship with a woman and he wanted to try and put a face to the idea. Having been trying his best to not consider just how badly her sexuality would play on his jealous and possessive tendencies. 

She laughed softly. "I knew you were gonna ask that." 

"I ain't nothin' if not predictable." he shrugged, letting the moment settle for a beat before continuing with, "was she?" 

Cassidy laughed again. "I guess, but not as much as you're my type." she assured him. 

"What? A fat, old, fool?"

The sparkle in her eyes died instantly, she hated hearing him talk about himself like that, it hurt something inside her deeply. 

With a sigh, she sat up a little to look him in the eye properly. "Okay, this needs to stop." she told him firmly and Michael frowned, unsure what she meant. "You're not that old, you got what? Eighteen, or nineteen years on me? That's nothin'. Even if I am a millennial." she assured with sly smirk that made him smile back. "And you're not even close to being fat either." Michael felt his chest filling with a magical warmth of growing confidence, the kind he'd always forced himself to outwardly show every day. "I think you're sexy as hell, and if I wanted some over-developed muscle bound fuckhead or a scrawny hipster who'd get blown over in a strong wind, I'd be hanging around down at Vespucci Beach." 

Michael laughed happily, flattered that someone younger and so beautiful found him as attractive as he found her. It seemed to good to be true, having been so long since he'd heard any kind of compliment, that he wasn't paying for in some way. "That's good to know." he nodded, his insecurities retreating back inside him just a little. "But what about the fool part?" 

She shrugged, her eyes rolling upward as if she was thinking hard. "Hummm....well, I dunno. The jury's still out on that one." 

"Woah!" he cried with a laugh in his voice. She giggled cheekily, filling him with the funniest of light feelings in his chest. He had missed laughing with someone he cared for, and loved the sense of banter he'd found with her. For year he'd wished to meet someone who could keep him on his toes, and make him feel good about himself, without overselling it the way the women whose company he bought did. 

"You're something else, you know that?" he asked tenderly, his eyes full of love and inspiration for the way she made him feel so alive, so happy. 

"Yeah, I know." she grinned full of forced bravado. She wanted to make him smile, to feel good about himself, and she meant every word, but part of her knew she needed to keep up the cocky attitude a little, just to protect herself from falling hopelessly for him. It was for the best if he didn't think he had her completely in the bag too soon. "You're lucky to have me." 

"I know I am." he said, his voice deep with raw honestly, which instantly shattered the smug mask she was trying to wear in front of him. The one that she hoped would prevent him seeing that she was vulnerable and afraid of becoming addicted to the happiness he was enticing her with. 

Feeling emotion building in her eyes, she quickly broke his gaze and sank back down to put her head on his chest where he couldn't see the twinkle of tears in her eyes. She felt his arm come up around, her gently stroking her shoulder as if he knew what she was feeling, and of course he did. 

He knew she'd been hurt by betrayal and loss, he knew she was worried about the risk she was taking with him too. The way she contrasted confident and sassy with such vulnerability filled him with a wild mix of emotions that seemed as intoxicating as they were confusing. 

He knew it was ridiculous to be feeling so much so fast, but he already loved everything about her. There was something that felt supernatural in about being around her, and although she wasn't the cure for his problems she was certainly improving his quality of life by the second, but he had one more burning question. 

"The other night...when you went out on your date..." he quizzed.

"Yeah?" she sang lowly, not moving from his chest, sensing something was coming. 

"Did anything happen?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno....did you like that guy?"

She let a moment of silence pass before raising up again to look at him properly. "Well, I didn't really get a chance to. You see, this total asshole of a guy showed up and made a scene, and chased him off."

Michael chucked softly at her teasing, but the worry in his gut was setting in deep. "You know what I mean." 

"Nothing happened. I was bored to tears." she confessed. "I mean, shit...I'm a therapist and even I have never met anyone who could talk about themselves as much as that guy did."

With a confident smile stretching across his face, he decided to pry a little more. "What did he do for a livin'?"

"Something in banking I think, I quit listening after about the first fifteen minutes of boasting." 

"So, he didn't do it for ya, huh?"

"Nope." she dismissed. "He did stand a chance, I was preoccupied."

"With what?" Michael asked, seeming genuinely naive, not as if he was fishing for something. 

"You!" Cassidy cried, giving him a soft nudge with her shoulder. "Showin' up on my doorstep, looking like a handsome sonuvabitch, trying to tempt me into doing terrible things with you." 

Michael laughed deeply, tickled by her enthusiastic tone. "Terrible things huh?" 

"The worst. The kinda things that'd make a girl scream." 

"Really?" he purred, his eyes hooding with lust. "Like what, exactly?"

She let her eyes linger on his lips for a moment, feeling the heat rising between them. "Like not picking a friggin' decent movie to watch!" With that she pushed back from him and snatched the remote control back, giggling at the look on his face. 

Michael snickered at her behaviour softly, she was a slippery one and he loved it. He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, feeling her slide the remote back into his hand, signalling she still wanted him to pick their entertainment. 

Pulling back softly, he looked into her eyes and smiled gratefully, before turning back to his task. Doing his best to find a decent film to watch that neither of them had seen before. Settling on a gangster movie that told the true story of an eighties drug dealer from Vice City. 

Hitting play he settled down with her tucked into his side, head on his chest as he rested the bowl of popcorn on his belly a bottle of beer in his free hand. Not speaking a word as they focused on the neon lit story full of action and classic music from the era.  
It wasn't the best they'd ever seen, but it didn't matter. The company alone made the experience worthwhile. For Michael it felt incredible to be enjoying a film with someone who wanted to be next to him. He'd never shared a single interest with his wife, other than the kids, the consumption of alcohol and hatred for him. 

For years he fought to he'd make a connection with her and his kids, but it never worked out. Yet with Cassidy it felt so effortless, it made him question why it had ever been such a struggle to find common ground with his family. 

While he knew things weren't going to be easy for him, her, or the ones he'd left across town, it didn't seem to matter in that moment. Things felt so perfect and worth any battle he'd have to fight. As long as there was hope for them, the spark that was slowing turning into a blaze promised they'd find a way to be together and make everything work. 

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ 

It wasn't that Cassidy didn't love the drama of eighties Vice City enough to stay awake and watch it all play out on her TV screen, but there was just something so comforting about being with Michael that made her relax completely, so much so that she fell asleep on him. All the emotions she'd been through over the last couple of days were taking a toll, and now the battle seemed to be over she found it too hard to resist the pull of sleep. 

As the credits began to roll Michael stretched out his neck, almost groaning at the weight of popcorn in his belly, but he'd strangely never felt more comfortable than laying just where he was. He didn't want to wake her up, but he knew his old bones would suffer in the morning if he slept sitting up in bed. 

He switched off the TV with the remote and called out to her softly, giving her a gentle shake to stir her as delicately as he could. "You fall asleep, baby?" he asked out and she nuzzled against him sleepily, hearing his voice rumble from within his chest. 

Slowly she came back to reality and sat up a little to look at him with drowsy eyes. "You make a real nice pillow." she said, her voice a little croaky as she rubbed her eyes. 

"You missed the best part." 

"I know. It's all your fault." she teased, giving a little yawn.

"For what?" 

"Smelling good and being warm." 

Michael chuckled, loving her odd compliment. "I'll make sure I stink for next time we're in bed together." 

"You better not." she snickered, pushing him playfully but hesitating for a moment to look over his face. A lick of guilt skittered through her gut but it was chased away quickly by the peace she felt irradiating off him. It would have been so much easier to just make their relationship about sex but knowing he could prove himself to her made her feel a little strange inside. 

"Can you stay the night?" she asked shyly, glancing away like she was trying to hide how much it meant to her to have him stay by her side. 

"I was hopin' to, yeah."

Her eyes swept back to meet his as she tried to hold back her smile. "Good!...But you should probably know something..."

Michael frowned, concerned and curious all at once. "Which is?"

"You're laying on my side."

He chuckled, shaking his head softly. He was on the side he'd instinctively slept on the night before. "Well, we're gonna have to change that..." Cassidy's eyebrows knotted together, silently asking him what he meant. "My dad never taught me much, but one thing he did tell me, is that men should always sleep on the side nearest the door...in case there's trouble in the night." 

She gave a soft laugh, feeling strangely enamoured by his unexpected chivalry. "That's sweet and all, but what about the patio doors?" she hooked her thumb over her shoulder to where voile curtains allowed muted moonlight to slip through while still protecting their privacy. "Someone could get in that way."

"Baby, we're about thirty feet off the ground right now, if someone wants in badly enough to try those doors, then I'd say you're fair game." he joked. 

With that Cassidy grabbed a pillow and slapped it against his arm playfully, their laughter rang out as he pulled her into him again and kissed deeply and reassuringly. He'd chosen his place in her home and he wasn't going to be talked out of it. 

Mutually breaking the kiss before things got out of hand, she announced her departure. "I'm gonna go get ready for bed. The main bathroom is the second door on the right, if you need." she gestured to the far wall that formed one side of the corridor outside. Michael nodded, watching as she turned over and sleepily pulled herself off the comfy mattress. Leaving him alone there, adjusting his position just a little to watch her head to the en-suite bathroom with a lazy smile on his face. 

He didn't know why he was smiling, although he guessed it was partly to do with the way her ass looked in the little shorts she was wearing, but it seemed that his mood was more due to the fact he felt so contented. He hadn't had a single truly negative thought in his head since he'd wrapped his arms around her on the lower balcony a few hours earlier, and although he longed for an opportunity to pick up where they'd been forced to leave off that morning, he was just happy with being with her. No agenda, no pressure, just comfort in company. Being with someone who seemed to care about him for more than his wallet, or out of sense of duty. Someone who seemed to be able to silence all the anxieties that had plagued him constantly for so many years. 

The way she behaved around him filled him with joy; her playfulness that was so natural and gave him the oddest kind of buzz, making him feel young again. However, inside he knew that her banter was occasionally just a performance to hide her vulnerabilities from him, much like his own sarcasm and bravado. 

Seeing her flaws and her weakness left no room for doubt in his mind - he was falling in love with her, deeply. He knew he should have been scared by the very idea, but he'd never felt anything so good before, and he'd never wanted anything more. He was finally experiencing the magic that the movies and television promised was out there in the world for everyone. 

Inside the bathroom Cassidy busily washed and changed out of her clothes and into a pair of pink panties and a grey tank top, trying her best to avoid looking into the mirror. Worried that if she saw herself the glow that resonated inside her would fade and she'd be bought back to the harsh reality of the situation she'd got herself into. 

The emptiness of the bathroom was chilling, the hum of the extractor fan on the wall and the buzz of the halogen lights over head seemed to be getting louder and louder the longer she was in there. She tried shutting off her ears, humming a song to herself as a way to distract her mind as she found her toothbrush and set about cleaning her teeth, looking everywhere but the mirror as she did so. 

She could feel a weight growing on her shoulders and it was becoming increasingly harder and harder to ignore without Michael at her side. A weight that warned her not to sink too deeply into the fantasy that becoming reality with each moment they shared. 

Pieces of broken thoughts rained into her head, reminding her of how he wasn't really hers. How she was setting herself up for a fall. Telling her that everything she'd worked for could be ruined in a matter of seconds if anyone discovered their secret. 

She knew she was doing so much damage, not just to herself and her life, but to his, and that of his families, and if she let herself think too much about just how horrible she was for doing what they were, she'd crack. She'd kick him out of her house in the middle of the night and run away for the life she'd tried to build there. Ashamed of her choices and weakness for him. 

There was no part of her that truly wanted to push him away, the overriding feeling in her heart desperately wanted it to work out for them, for things to be as he'd promised, and she was foolishly hopefully that maybe somehow it could all work out. However, the ever present niggle in the back of her mind was growing larger and larger the more she tried to ignore it. The niggle that told her something would go wrong, badly wrong. Since for her, it always did. 

Despite all the negativity and anxiety growing inside her, she couldn't shake the need she felt in her stomach - a need for him and all he seemed to promise her. She wanted to be with him, she needed someone in her life, even if he did have trouble written all over him.

Determined to avoid properly acknowledging the harsh reality of her past and its effect on her present, Cassidy finished up in the bathroom quickly and returned to the bedroom. The sight of Michael laying on his side in her bed, having shed his clothes onto the chair in the corner and settled down under the covers, filled her with nicest of feeling. 

One that reminded her of how she felt after coming home from summer camp as a child, relief, comfort, familiarity and safety. It felt strange to feel such a thing with him -so soon- but inside it warmed the depths of her soul and gave her the strength she needed to ignore the negatives that pulled against their restraints in her mind. 

He looked even more handsome than she'd seen him before, laying in the dim light of her bedside lamps and the shimmer of moonlight outside the large patio windows that walled one side of the room. She nibbled her lower lip, worried that they were going to break their vow to not make the night about sex, because she wanted him. She _really_ wanted him. However more than that, she needed to know they could be more than just sex, she wanted to be friends, confidantes, as well as lovers. There was something about him that swore he could fill all the holes that were present in her life, be the person she needed besides her, in spite of the warnings signs printed on him. 

She shut out the bathroom light and headed over to the bed, climbing on and moving close to him, as he held up the blankets welcoming her underneath with him. It didn't feel like they needed to speak, as she lent in and kissed him softly on the lips, feeling his mouth smile against hers contently. 

Without a word he reached out and shut out the lights and they snuggled down into the bed together. Her head found the perfect place, resting on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her, keeping her as close as he could. Enjoying the feel of her long, supple leg curling around his hairy calf. As he stroked the top of her arm tenderly, his other hand gently grasping hers that was resting on his chest, just over his heart. 

He couldn't have been happier lying there, as he watched the moonlight reflect the moving pattern of ocean water onto her ceiling. Thinking about how good it felt to be in a bed with someone who actually wanted him to touch them, who wanted to touch him in return. He'd missed feeling wanted and it had been so long since he'd really been allowed to give and receive the affection he'd privately longed for deep inside. 

"Michael?" she asked out into the silence, a tone in her voice said she was worried. 

"Yeah, baby?" 

She raised her head to look him in the eyes, clearly troubled by her own thoughts. "You'll be here when I wake up, right?" 

He frowned at her, a little confused by her question. "You want me to be?"

"Yes. I don't want to wake up and feel like I did this morning when you weren't here." 

He felt something resembling guilt prick inside him. "I wouldn't have gotten outta bed if I knew you'd worry I was gone." 

"It's okay." she assured. "Just make sure you're not gone again?" 

"I'll do my best." he agreed, kissing her again. Deeper and longer this time, saying goodnight to her, with a silent hope passing between them that begged for things to feel just as good in the light of the morning, as they did right there in under the cover of darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to all of you who have left me wonderful feedback here on the previous chapters and to those of you who continue to show me your support for my work on other sites too. You guys are awesome! Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! :o) xoxox


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